


No tomorrow

by exosweave



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, KaiSoo - Freeform, M/M, Manipulation, RMS Titanic, Rape, Smut, Violence, but not very explicit, but you have to go through the angst first, in a lifeboat, main focus on kaisoo, noncon nudity, sekai (abusive)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-02-26 19:14:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 17
Words: 36,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21723721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exosweave/pseuds/exosweave
Summary: 1912. French supermodel Kim Jongin boards the RMS Titanic – the ship of dreams – in hopes to start off his worldwide career in New York. Desperate to escape his manipulative manager, he soon discovers his designer shoes are too posh for the freshly mobbed decks. Twisting his ankle right in front of cabin boy Do Kyungsoo.Please read the tags before starting this fic!
Relationships: Do Kyungsoo | D.O/Kim Jongin | Kai, Kim Jongin | Kai/Oh Sehun
Comments: 97
Kudos: 149





	1. Prologue

_  
"Kiss me like there's no tomorrow."_

_"There isn't. Let's pretend there isn't."_


	2. The Ship of Dreams

_**1912.** _

They called it _the ship of dreams_ and it was. To Jongin it really was. Boarding the RMS Titanic in the harbour of _Cherbourg_ , he really understood why the ship carried that nickname.

He wasn’t the only one on board of that ship with hopes and ambitions. But maybe his were the only ones that really matched the _grandeur_ of that tragically beautiful ship.

His model career in France was ‘ _fantastique_ ’. He could easily spend his entire life modelling in Paris and never be jobless. But the world is bigger than France, his manager – Mister Oh Sehun – had told him one day. Stating how he could take over Manhattan.

And god, how much Jongin wanted that. Yearned for that. To be new and challenging and modern. A new image. A new him. Not Kim Jongin, but _Kim Kai_.

Someone completely different. Far more endearing. Far more captivating. Far more willing to put himself out there. On the catwalk, in front of the camera lens. Someone daring enough to put himself out on display for the sake of _haute couture_.

Because timid and modest Kim Jongin really hated the attention. The stares. The expectations he always had to live up to.

A people pleaser. Never able to say no in his life. No clue how to strike up conversation at all.

There were so many people out on the ship, Jongin felt suffocated most of the time. The first day on the ship he didn’t even go out at all.

Mingling with the first class on board? The people rich enough to consider him their muse or to sponsor his career if they liked him enough? No. He didn’t even dare to look them in the eye.

He didn’t have to worry about that on the first day however. Seasickness destroying him completely. Walls spinning, leaving him by himself questioning how on earth he’s going to make it to the end of the entire voyage. It was even worse than the night he had been drinking champagne with his manager and suddenly became dizzy. He had woken up the next morning at his manager’s flat without any memories at all.

But finally the sickness calmed down and Jongin was actually able to enjoy himself on board of the ginormous vessel. Strolling along the decks. Escaping the crammed space of his room and the prying eyes of his manager with the excuse of having to use the restroom.

Enjoying his time on the deck so much. Fresh sea-air. Peace and quiet. No judgement. Having the hardest time to keep his hat on because of the wind. Letting the sunlight hit his face directly, even though his manager would scold him for it.

The heels of his loafers made a pleasant noise on the brand new, shining wood. Apart from some sailors working, there was no else on deck. No else that could scold him for daring to tan his complexion even more.

No one to-

His heart seemed to jump out of his chest as he suddenly felt the ground swaying underneath his feet, a sharp pain shooting through his ankle at that.

Above him a pair of warm, friendly eyes and around his shoulders an arm keeping him from breaking an actual leg.

“There is no place for those type of shoes on any of these decks, sir.”

Completely opposite to that warm gaze, his voice sounded as cold as the waves crashing against the sides of the ship as it continued to shoot forwards at an impressive speed.

Jongin’s cheeks were probably wearing an unflattering shade of crimson red right now.

Out of all types of shoes he had brought with him, loafers certainly were the most common ones. They enhanced and brought attention to all the right things, making his feet appear dainty underneath his _pantalon_ and his legs even longer. But most important of it all, they were _on trend_. And if there was one thing Jongin needed to do right now, it was wearing the right clothes for the right occasion. His manager had made sure he remembered that lesson very well.

He couldn’t find his voice anymore. Being shy to begin with, it was an embarrassing situation to say the least. Having to cling onto the arm of a sailor quick enough to come to his aid as he struggled to keep the fashion accessory on top of his head with his free hand.

At least it happened out of sight of anyone who carried loads and loads of money.

The sudden push back onto his feet almost had him twisting his other ankle this time before he finally managed to find his balance again. The slippery deck seemed to mock him as he still hadn’t been able to find his voice. He wasn’t even able to get a proper thank you past his lips.

The wind started playing with the edge of his teal-colored hat once more, forcing him to meet the eyes he had so desperately tried to avoid just then.

For a moment there seemed to be some sort of recognition in those doe-like eyes. Something Jongin knew would happen sooner or later on board. This just so happened to be one of those situations he didn’t prefer it to. Although well… there wasn’t exactly a time he _did_ like it.

The surprise mirrored on his own face was probably reason enough for the sailor to suddenly take a step back, returning his personal space to him as he finally did. Although his balance still seemed to be in his hands, for he quickly added: “Are you able to return inside without help, sir?”

It took him a moment of stupid blinking to realize that _yes_ , he was speaking to him and _yes_ , he had asked him a question. Rather, had offered his help to him.

He wasn’t sure whether he wanted to accept it or not. Part of him was reluctant to return to his chambers already. He had already spent way too many hours there being seasick. The thought of the hideous wallpaper alone was enough to make him nauseous again, remembering how much the walls had been spinning. Although there was one painting in his room he did really, really like.

Jongin could only sheepishly nod his head as he went for a small bow instead to show his gratitude towards the sailor. He could slam his own head in for the impression he was giving off. Like he was some damned mute. Giving the sailor material to gossip about.

“Yes, it won’t be necessary,” his voice was small when it finally came.

He couldn’t find himself to walk the entire way back to his chambers just yet though. Part of the reason being how he didn’t want to do so in sight of the very same sailor. He would just have to play the waiting game until he left the deck, so he could stumble to his room without an extra embarrassing pair of judging eyes.

But every other step across the deck had him wincing in pain when he tried to feign good health. Almost falling against the metal railing when he managed to make his way over to the side of the ship. One hand on the metal didn’t give him much support. And being so close to sea wasn’t a smart idea either, the wind even stronger at the spot he was standing.

He awkwardly fought to keep his hat on before he decided to just give up on it, clutching it to his chest instead as he remained at the railing. His manager would come looking for him anyway.

“There you are.”

As if he had summoned the devil. Sometimes Jongin wondered whether his manager had developed a sixth sense for his thoughts and how much he often dreaded to see him since that one blurry night.

There was something about the sound of his footsteps. It had a distinct _flair_ to it, mixed with the smell of trouble. He always walked around on three legs. The sound of the cane stomping on the wooden deck with every other step managed to bring actual shivers down his spine.

Jongin’s breath hitched in the back of his throat as he felt the fingers tugging at the back of the coordinated teal blazer he was wearing.

A possessive hold, but of course it was. He was _the Kim Jongin_ after all. Oh Sehun’s pretty, tall moneymaker.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” the man hissed, black haired gelled back like most men of his status wore it nowadays. Every strand neatly glued into place. Patent black shoes so clean, he was almost able to use them as a mirror. An image not giving anything away to the public, but Jongin was the first to know how deceiving looks could be.

The tug at his arm forced him into turning around if he didn’t want to hurt his ankle even more or show his hurt. He didn’t feel like explaining or reliving the moment in secondhand embarrassment.

“I-“

“And here you are. Put that hat back on, Jongin. I’ve told you many times before. _Un teint clair-_ “

“I only just arrived here,” the model interrupted him before he even had the chance to get properly started with his heated monologue. “I was just about to head back.”

The thing about Oh Sehun was that he wasn’t exactly ugly. Far from that, really. He could probably make quite an impressive model career for himself if he met the right people. But unfortunately, he had to be ambitious. The kind of ambitious that outed itself as a coldhearted, strong-browed _bitch_.

“Well, let’s go then. You’ve wasted way too much of our time today already. It isn’t even noon yet.”

Tears sprung in Jongin’s eyes as he got pulled – no, dragged along – by the arm. The sharp pain in his ankle was back. Even if he would decide on telling him, he doubted the fact if mister Oh would really care for it. Perhaps if his ankle got so swollen that it would prevent him from doing any foot-modelling campaigns, maybe he would show some empathy. Although Jongin really doubted that too.

“Don’t you have work to do?” his manager hissed to one of the unlucky employees that had gotten in the way of him and his temperament that morning.

All Jongin could do as he tried to follow along with the brutal pace, was stare at his shoes and think of how bittersweet they were. Just like the entire trip would probably be.

There was no time to notice a certain sailor. Let alone feel bad for him.


	3. Nini

‘Wasting their time’ turned out to be time Oh Sehun needed to talk business to him as he forced him into yet another outfit. Highwaisted, pleated cream pants this time around, paired with a jumper matching in color but with added navy details.

He had protested on wearing another pair of loafers for their planned tour of the ship, but his manager wouldn’t have it until Jongin was forced to admit what exactly had happened out there earlier that morning. He got scolded for it – as expected – but at least he got a pair of flat mules to replace them. Not that they weren’t any less of a torture to walk in. He really envied the cane mister Oh made his way with.

The waterfall of words coming out of his manager’s mouth was a welcome distraction from the numbing pain of the icepack on his ankle. How much he hated cold and being cold. And it wouldn’t get any better in the future, for they would soon enter arctic waters according to the ship’s navigation map he had studied briefly.

He went on and on about making the right impressions. Talking about every single guest that would be accompanying them on the tour. How a certain Kim Junmyeon would also be there. The man turned out to be one of the biggest funders of the RMS Titanic.

And now Oh Sehun was certain he would fund Jongin’s model career. All he needed to be was his good-looking self, he assured him. Meaning he just had to stand there and leave the talking up to him.

It left Jongin unprepared for the rapid-fired questions thrown at his head by this Kim Junmyeon while they strolled along the top decks. Simple things like what he thought of the interior of the ship. Harder ones like the color choices. All Jongin managed to get out were one-word-replies such as ‘beautiful’ and ‘refreshing’.

Even his manager seemed to be shocked about the man’s interest in him and his opinions. Perhaps it even went as far as jealousy, from the look he had in his eyes. He wasn’t sure though. Sehun’s expressions had always been unreadable to him.

This time however, Jongin was very mindful of the steps he took along the wood. He really wanted to prevent a repetition of that morning. Luckily, the wind had calmed down a lot too.

Turning his head was much easier now that he had left the accessory behind in their quarters. He was finally able to tell how busy the RMS Titanic really was, now that nothing obstructed his vision anymore.

Three decks – one for each class, theirs being the highest and biggest because they boarded first class – and a matching amount of guests on all of them. Including so much sailors to keep the ship running, he soon lost count of how many there were.

It was beautiful. It really was. Still, Jongin couldn’t wait to get off of it. Couldn’t wait to start anew at the other side of the world.

He struggled to keep up with the tour and the entourage mister Oh had invited to accompany them. How boring all of it was. Not only did it take incredibly long, their guide also was one of the most annoying men he had ever met. Too full of himself. Of course that was exactly the type of men his manager got along with all too well.

Loads of different facts about the ship later – impressive and interesting things, Jongin wasn’t going to deny it – they still hadn’t seen everything. The second and third class was unknown territory to them, and would probably remain so until the end of the trip. The ship simply wasn’t designed for classes to mingle. And the look on Oh Sehun’s face managed to express every single one’s thoughts in their entourage: the lower class should stay where they are on the ship, for they exactly deserved what they got.

Many courses during dinner – and before that _l’aperétif_ – later Jongin couldn’t fight it anymore. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity – the once in a lifetime first voyage of the Ship of Dreams – and he hadn’t even gotten a glance of the entire ship yet? Nonsense. Everything he had seen of the ship so far – from the fancy suites to the classy tailored suits of the sailors and waiters – had been worth every coin they had spent on the expensive tickets.

He had to see everything for himself.

Running away from the prying eyes of his manager was just an added bonus.

Here they were, seated across each other in the company of the one and only Kim Junmyeon. A man they were both desperately trying to impress at the same time. It must’ve looked ridiculous to spectators.

Although Oh Sehun was more direct in his approach. A fruitful one too. He easily wrapped the man around his finger with all of his usual charms, like his slick talk and the way his fingers occasionally fixed the lost strand of hair obstructing his vision.

The very same thing Jongin had once naively fallen for.

He had a thing of doing it at the exact right moment, luring people in and trapping them without them noticing he had them under his spell.

How could he ever be so stupid?

All throughout dinner, Jongin was too shy to act upon any of his curious thoughts. He simply sat around with his model face plastered onto his features, as he ate and drank and only picked in on the conversation when one of the two men were to address him directly. Perhaps he came across as disinterested to strangers – which wasn’t a lie – because of his quiet nature.

“Are you alright?”

The soft low voice coming from Junmyeon snapped him out of his thoughts. His brown eyes mirrored his surprise. But most of all he looked concerned.

The type of genuine concern Jongin hadn’t seen in a very, very long time.

His body stiffened under the death-glare radiating from his manager. He had to be alright.

“I am. Although I was overtaken by seasickness yesterday. Perhaps I’m still recovering from it,” he managed to answer without his voice audibly trembling. The corner of his mouth almost betraying him when he feigned a smile.

Luckily for him those words seemed to convince both men. It even got rid of the look on his manager’s face. He probably was relieved he didn’t mention his sprained ankle.

“A good night’s rest will work wonders,” the money investor then answered.

“It might.” Jongin didn’t hesitate to take it as his cue to leave. Bowing and nodding politely at the same time as he excused himself from the table with all gestures social protocol demanded.

On his way out he avoided making eye-contact with all of the other guests. Especially his very own manager. Passing table after table, he was glad to escape that dining room. It probably was the best decision he had made all day. Every gaze was just too intruding.

He craved nothing else but to hide in the confinement of their suites, but spending the night in the presence of his manager was just too suffocating. So instead of taking the turn to the first class halls and his chambers, he took the corner to head into the directions of the second and third class quarters of the ship.

On his way down into the gigantic belly of the ship, he prayed that none of the employees would stop him to ask whether he was lost and needed a guide to return to his room. He just really needed a moment alone, away from the glam and the rich.

The halls down in the ship were small and easy to get lost in. The lower he got, the more they seemed to change into small corridors Jongin was starting to feel claustrophobic in if he gave it too much thought.

Fancy carpet turned into cold tiles. Intricate looking wallpaper was now replaced with plain white and tubes ran all the way from the beginning of the hallways through to the ends. The lights were hung up sparingly, giving the corridors an earie feeling to them.

A perfect hiding space.

With his mules clutched in one hand, he could easily imagine staying here. Running away from mister Oh and mister Kim for the night and only returning to his chambers when he was sure his manager had fallen asleep to the taste of his whiskey.

But he couldn’t. He wasn’t even supposed to be here according to his ticket.

And the lights that suddenly dimmed. Ten o’clock sharp. He had heard something already about the third class passengers having a fixed sleeping time. Making sure every hall inside the ship remained lit at nighttime must’ve been too much money consuming.

He wondered what it would be like as he continued strolling his way through the halls in complete darkness, sometimes broken by the faint candlelight creeping its way underneath the cabin doors or a spare safety light near one of the exits.

Would it really feel as liberating as it did to him right then and there, to come down here every night of his trip and open one of the many closed doors? To own a tiny room of his own? To fall asleep to just his own breath?

He didn’t even know what laid exactly behind those doors. He just assumed they couldn’t be big or fancy according to how much of a price difference there was between his ticket and those of a commoner. Although the RMS Titanic didn’t appear to be the type of ship to host anything non-expensive aside its passengers.

How different it all was from the personal hell he was living in. The personal hell he should probably return to. It was getting late already. He didn’t want to anger his manager again.

Which way was further into the ship and which way was back up though? Jongin couldn’t tell anymore. He had been so stuck inside his own mind, he hadn’t kept track of his walking route throughout the lower compartments of the ship.

The darkness only adding to his helplessness.

Surely, there must’ve been some sort of evacuation routes being displayed on the walls somewhere incase some fire broke lose? Preferably lit up?

As he continued making his way through the halls, it almost felt like he was just walking the same block over and over again. Until he rounded a corner for what seemed to be the hundred time.

Like a moth drawn to a flame he practically broke into a run as he noticed one of the many doors standing open, light invitingly spilling from it.

Someone to help him back to his own chambers, but curiosity also got the best of him. Finally a peak inside one of those cabins. Something to add to the fantasy he had already been living inside of his mind.

The sight of the partially naked sailor had him absolutely mortified.

The workers quarters. He was in the workers quarters.

He wanted to take a step back. Get the hell out of there. At least hide his face in the darkness of the hallway he was still standing in, but he couldn’t move. The man had him glued to the spot.

Not just a sailor. _His_ sailor. The one that had saved him from breaking a leg.

The sudden realization had him dropping one of his shoes from the awkward grip around them in his hands. Jongin quickly scrambled to pick them up before the situation could get any more embarrassing for him.

“Sorry- I was walking and I- I was walking through the halls and I got lost. I got list in the halls, I didn’t mean- I didn’t see anything,” he struggled to find the right words to excuse himself. “And I’m- I’m going to leave now? If that’s alright with you?”

The hard look on the stranger’s face almost had him in tears. Jongin waited for his answer as if he actually needed the man’s permission to leave. But then again, wasn’t it the politest thing to do so? Considering he had intruded his privacy? He couldn’t just simply take his leave and pretend like nothing had happened, right? Especially after the man’s help this morning and now this.

He wouldn’t live to see New York if his manager got wind of this.

Suddenly he didn’t know how to keep ahold of himself. Should he keep his hands folded in front of him or behind his back? Wait- Never mind- His shoes got in the way of that.

“No need to apologize… Sir.”

He dropped both navy mules this time. Probably should pick them up immediately, but the look in the dark eyes staring back at him caught him even more of guard.

“You were walking through the halls and got lost?” the man then echoed his words, probably wanting to fill the awkward silence that had fallen between them as soon as Jongin crouched down this time to pick up his shoes.

The wide legs of his trousers brushed against the tiles underneath his heels. It was the first time he actually noticed how hot the lower parts of the ship were. Probably because of the engines being in close proximity.

“Maybe- Maybe I can show you around?”

The comment made Jongin look up in a heartbeat.

A chance to stay away from his manager a bit longer? He shouldn’t- And yet, his heart seemed to skip out of his chest at the mere suggestion.

“I know the ways,” the sailor continued to defend himself. Or maybe he was trying to convince him? “I can show you some secret places inside the Titanic?”

Perhaps he was eying the man a bit too intently after he had pushed himself back up again, mules now tightly clutched against his chest to prevent himself from dropping them again.

He looked confident about it. Jongin didn’t doubt the fact that he did know his way around the ship. He probably knew the ship from the inside out too.

“Unless you don’t want to, sir,” he added after not getting a long-awaited answer, “which I can understand. I can show you the way towards your quarters?”

Jongin shifted his weight from one feet to the other, being quite uncomfortable about being put on the spot so suddenly. He was never one to make quick decisions.

He hissed at the sudden reminder of that morning, pulling his sore ankle of the ground to rest his curled toes on the ground instead.

He noticed the sailor’s eyes travelling down to it, feeling a deep blush creep its way across his cheekbones already. Maybe he wouldn’t see that in the darkness of the hallway?

“Uhm-“ Jongin hesitated in his answer. And that’s exactly where he found the truth.

He didn’t want to head back just yet. He didn’t want to go back to feeling miserable in the over the top comfort of his own chambers.

“I should probably head back.” Before my manager comes to find me, he wanted to add, but he swallowed the comment fairly quick. “Although I technically wouldn’t be the one at fault if I accepted help and a certain someone were to show me the wrong way,” he smiled genuinely.

It wasn’t a direct yes, but it certainly wasn’t a no either. They could take the long route to his quarters, right?

He didn’t know what suddenly got into him as he took a step forward inside the room. Maybe the sight of the bed had possessed him.

A metal bunk bed. It looked rather small as he tiptoed rather clumsy to take a peek at the mattress, but the man didn’t need much to fit into anyway he figured. The bed clearly was made to fit only one person.

The sight made him nostalgic. It had been ages since he last slept in a regular sized bed. The big mattress he owned in Paris and the double bed in his first class suite often felt big enough to get lost in.

He had to grasp at the iron bar of the little ladder attached to it to prevent himself from falling over as he continued to peak at it.

It suddenly dawned on him what he was doing exactly. “I apologize, I’m interrupting you when you were about to sleep,” he scrambled back to the door again. Shooting him a few awkward glances, uncertain where to look since the man was still clad in nothing but a pair of his uniform trousers. He had probably been in the middle of changing to go to bed.

Did he have a long working day? He didn’t look that tired, but he had been on duty when Jongin almost slipped this morning. More than twelve hours of work though? That would be inhuman.

He didn’t need the presence of his manager anymore. He had learnt to do the scolding himself.

It would never be enough. If Jongin wasn’t even able to remember the rules of common etiquette, how on earth was he supposed to leave a good impression on mister Kim and the people in New York? He had left dinner too early and now he was gone for far too long already. His manager-

“No, it’s fine. Truly,” the stranger smiled kindly at him as he followed him over to the doorway, resting one of his hands on the frame. “I was only going to sleep because I had nothing else to do.”

Jongin could hardly imagine something like that to be true, but the warmth in the stranger’s voice made it way too easy for him to believe it. Maybe he was being too naïve, trusting a stranger so blindly once again. Especially a poor stranger. Who knew what he was capable of doing to him? Maybe he was only being kind because of the wealth he radiated.

The deafening silence made him aware of how fast his heart had suddenly started beating at the thought of something possibly being wrong.

He shouldn’t be staring at the man while he began moving quickly - pulling a jumper over his head, putting some clothes on again to show Jongin around – but he couldn’t help it. His eyes big as he anxiously tried to distract himself by pinching at his nails.

One moment he still caught a glimpse of tanned skin. The very next it was already covered by white fabric. The black embroidery on the neckline of the turtle neck enchanted him for a second. It was clear how big of a price-tag the RMS Titanic really carried. Mister Kim had even invested in expensive uniforms for the crew. White Star Line written on it in an elegant, handmade font.

White Star Line. For a moment Jongin imagined what it must be like to work for such a big company. How tiring it must be, or maybe the complete opposite. To be just a number for them. Someone almost completely unknown. Perhaps working on deck was one of the most exciting, liberating things when one was in the possession of the right shoes.

The sweater looked incredibly soft too, but most of all the model had to refrain from fixing the neckline. He hated how the sailor had put it on with such lack of care. He envied him for it. As much as he loved fashion and feeling pretty, the process was tiring and often anything remotely close to pleasant.

“So,” the man started, clearing his throat as he ran one of his hands across the fabric. They both had spotted the creases in it, but he wouldn’t be able to get rid of those without giving the jumper a good steaming. “The wrong way towards your quarters are this way, Sir,” his voice was firm.

Unsure whether to return the stranger’s smile, Jongin followed the nod of the other’s head for a second. Of course left was the wrong route. Right had been the way he came from, meaning that if he just walked back he would eventually stumbled on some stairs. But the dark and the cramped halls had made his brain short-circuit in a moment of blind panic.

He could’ve still backed out if he wanted to. Looking back to it, he probably should’ve, but he didn’t.

Instead he decided to follow the man’s lead – into that darkness – without questioning. Tiptoeing lightly behind him on his bare feet. Staring down at where he could vaguely make up the contours of his own toes in the dim light there was, suddenly feeling self-conscious about the way his toes curled and the length of them. He hoped the stranger hadn’t noticed.

He could just about see the span of the short man’s shoulders in front of him as he started talking at a quiet tone, as to not wake the other workers up: “I apologize. I haven’t even introduced myself. My name is Doh Kyungsoo.”

Jongin awkwardly bumped into him when the man went to walk beside him. Shoulders awkwardly brushing together as they continued their way through the hall.

It was a normal thing to do, formally exchanging identities. Yet his throat seemed to close up at the thought of having to tell this man – with his blank expression and his deep eyes – whom he really was. Up until now he had treated him with a polite kind of distance Jongin much preferred to the posh type of flattery people threw at him every day. Talking to him as if he was just another guest on board of the ship who simply happened to possess way more money compared to him and required his service.

He didn’t have much of an option, did he? Either he told him the truth – told him he was Kim Jongin – or he just shut his mouth and prayed to God he wouldn’t pose the question. Or he could try and make him the first person to sell his new identity to. Kai. But then the sailor would probably haunt him as soon as he managed to make career in New York, possibly destroying his new-built imagine with gossip.

He didn’t want to carry any other corpses with him.

“Nini.”

The nickname suddenly popped into his mind. A name almost zero people – not even his manager – knew off. His little niece used to call him that.

“My name is Nini,” he spoke weakly. Anything but convincing. Sounding ridiculous coming from the mouth of an adult too, but he still liked the name. It reminded him of home. Of the old Jongin. Pre-model Jongin.

He could feel himself blushing a crimson red at that. It was one of the very few times he was actually grateful for that darkness on that ship.

He hated the sight of the elevator emerging in front of them when they passed another corner, but he didn’t dare to complain. The stranger had been kind enough to lead him the way already.

He had to battle himself to keep his eyes open to keep his eyes open when he got in and the lift started working. Even in the lack of light, he could see and feel the floor disappearing behind the bars as they got higher and higher. A thing that always had him nauseous. His manager knew of that too. Even laughed at him when they first took one after boarding the ship. Jongin just wanted to sink to the bottom of the ocean then and there for embarrassment. He had felt like a four year old.

“Look,” the sailor announced, drawing a sigh of relief out of the model’s mouth as they only had to go up one floor. “It’s hard to miss, but right there is a hallway for the maids.”

It wasn’t, really. The lights were all still working, since maids never stopped performing their duties either.

Jongin was reluctant to get out of the elevator. Even with his fear of staying inside the elevator too long.

Maids. Women. They would definitely recognize him if any of them knew about him in the first place. He had heard the Irish accents of a lot of the workers already, but he also knew how the RMS Titanic had a worldwide crew and a lot of French-speaking guests they had to accommodate to.

But he wasn’t keen on staying inside of the elevator. So he tagged along as he mumbled a question in a poorly made attempt of striking up conversation: “Do they know you come out here sometimes?”

“I’ve wandered through this place a few times,” he quietly answered, as if he was entrusting him with some secret. He might’ve really had.

Jongin wondered if he was just like all other men aboard of that ship: way too interested in the all too eager to serve maids, only with less money to promise them. Although he could hardly believe that to be the case. Not that the maids wouldn’t like him if he wanted anything from them, because well- he certainly wasn’t bad looking. But he didn’t scream that vibe.

Much to his surprise, the maids quarters looked fancier than the workers’. He wanted to ask why so, but he bit his tongue right on time. It would come across as saying those maids were better than sailors, and even though that was kind of true… well. He was in the company of one.

How many people even worked on board of the RMS Titanic? Jongin was just as clueless as all the other guests aboard of the ridiculously luxurious ship. Just expecting people to tend to his every need because they so much paid them to do so. But thanking them? He never actually did. Mister Oh telling him that he wasn’t supposed to, they’re only doing their jobs. Meaning, ‘the bare minimum’.

“How- How far does it exactly go?” He asked, hesitant to step foot into that corridor the man just told him they weren’t supposed to be in to begin with.

“Far. All the workers on the ship need a place to sleep, of course,” he turned around to face him for a second, “All nine hundred. If I’m not mistaken.”

His deep voice was luring the model in, making it hard for Jongin to remember that he should be heading back to his room soon.

Nine hundred. He almost choked on his tongue at that incredibly high number. Was his English good enough? Had he heard that right? He had expected the number of workers to be high – the ship hosted a total number of more than a thousand guests after all – but this many? This many people to avoid in total? His knees started to give out on him.

“I know they use one of the rooms as a hide-out, though,” Kyungsoo grinned. “Come on.”

All he could think about was the fact that he was literally stuck on a floating piece of metal in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean with nowhere to hide from the crowd. His every move, his every breath would be registered. He would have to stay composed at every single hour of the day. And yes, maybe he should’ve thought about that beforehand, instead of spiraling into a blind state of panic as he tagged along with some stranger.

The door swung open. Someone walking out with a tray in their hands.

He wanted to turn around on his heels as he saw the maid approaching them, immediately recognizing the look in her eyes. Like a deer in headlights when she saw him.

The hallway was way too small for the three of them to pass each other easily, so Kyungsoo decided to ask her to make way. The tone of his voice gave way how much he was used to asking – demanding it – of someone.

Jongin never did. Never had to.

“Can I- Can I get an autograph?”

At this point he was staring with as much shock on his face as the woman standing in front of him. Eyes widening as he glanced over at his company.

Nini didn’t give out autographs. No one had ever asked Nini for one either.

“I-“

He felt Kyungsoo’s heroic hand slip in his before he could finish his sentence. Sweeping him away from her, “excuse us, we’re in a rush.”

Jongin sent her an apologetic smile as he got dragged along. They hurried passed all total of nine hundred rooms – he didn’t count, only assumed – until they were in a bigger room. One covered in darkness again, as there was no one occupying it. Yet another incredibly spacious, unrequired sitting area inside the ship.

“I think we’ll be save from staring maids here,” Kyungsoo teased. He probably meant things well, but the model couldn’t help but feel guilty and called out at the same time.

They were still holding hands. A warm grip on his. A bit rough too, because of the harsh work he must’ve been performing out on those decks during his working hours. But a nice one nonetheless.

He wouldn’t have minded to hold onto it a bit longer. Used to skinship with other models after all.

But the sailor pulled his hand away quickly, mumbling a flustered apology.

Jongin pretended not to hear it. He did that a lot. It was easier that way, pretending to be deaf to avoid having to strike up conversation with anyone. He never knew what to say anyway.

He tiptoed his way over to the white piano in the room instead, only now noticing how the tiles underneath his feet had changed into thick carpet now that his heels almost drowned in it. The softness brought back the smile on his face in a heartbeat.

Without thinking he reached out to the instrument, hitting the highest note and letting it echo across the room. Quickly withdrawing his hand however when he realized how much noise it actually made. He didn’t want to betray their presence.

“Unfortunately I don’t know how to play it,” the sailor spoke as he saw Jongin’s expectant gaze.

He wasn’t able to play any instrument himself either. But the sight of it made him happy.

He had done a photoshoot on one once before. A black one, lacquer. It never got published in the end. Mister Oh hadn’t approved of it, so they ended up switching props to some fancy staircase. Which Jongin ended up hating, but his opinion didn’t matter.

His eyes roamed around the rest of the room as he absentmindedly let his free hand wander across the piano when walked away from it. There was something fairytale like about the interior of the ship. Like they had really designed it knowing it would earn its famous nickname Of Dreams later.

There wasn’t much light falling inside of the room to light up the golden foiled decoration on the walls. Only moonlight coming from three small windows on the side and the distant lighting of the hallways that were connected to the room. Through one of the open doorways, Jongin could see a larger sitting area in the distance that was connected to the other side of the hallway.

He could also spot the fuss that was being created all the way over there. Could hear some voices being raised, only growing louder and louder as the second passed. He watched the entire thing go down with narrowed eyes, drawn into the spectacle with a newfound amusement in it. He really shouldn’t be, but at least he wasn’t involved this time around.

His heart dropped to his feet as he spotted the familiar sharp brows at the other end of said distance. The eagle eyes underneath it were quick enough to recognize him too.

“I- I am so sorry, Kyungsoo, I have to leave-“ Jongin muttered as he stumbled backwards, looking for the nearest exit not caring which direction it would lead him to. As long as it was away from him. If he could just stay ahead of him and head back to his rooms first, he might be able to pull of the lie that he had been there the entire time.

He almost fell as he hurried to the door on the opposite direction of which they came from. It was the only way. He couldn’t just head back through the maids corner, where they would certainly catch on to him.

“Thank you for the trip, it was nice.”

He could hear Sehun scream his name in the hallway already.

“Really nice!”

He practically fell through the door as he pushed it open, his feet not quick enough to keep up with him. Awkwardly dropping one of his navy shoes in the process.

He left it.

He couldn’t go back for them. Good thing he hadn’t been wearing them. They would’ve been impossible to run in.

Oh Sehun caught up to him just as the elevator he was in was about to close. He hooked the end of his cane – the part one would usually hold onto – in between the metal gate, skillfully pulling it open before the clerk could even protest.

He had a look on his face resembling bad weather. Jongin knew the storm was about to come in any minute from now, but not here. Not in public.

His heart was racing in his chest – both from running for his life only one second ago and now in renewed fear – as he held onto the remaining shoe in his hand. He clutched it to his chest like a first-class idiot. Knew he was exactly that as the elevator went up on another deck, bringing them back to the luxurious spaces of the ship reserved for only the wealthiest of its guests.

He could hear Mister Oh’s knuckles cracking as they turned white, the firm grip around the handle of the cane showing just how angry he was without uttering a single word.

“Where’s your other shoe, Jongin?”

As if he had stabbed him in the chest. Unfortunately, it were only mere words.

“I don’t know,” he whispered, ashamed as his naked feet on the elevator ground mocked him too.

The tight grip around his bicep that motioned him forwards through the hallways was like walking the death penalty. For some reason Jongin would’ve much preferred that instead of tripping over his way too long cream pants as his manager pushed him back towards their suites.

“You made me look like a fool in front of mister Kim, Jongin!” Sehun hissed as soon as he had silently closed their suite door behind them. The latter was no odd thing for him to do though in his rage. The ship still had walls and ears and they still had a reputation to uphold.

One Jongin had clearly ruined now, and Sehun didn’t even know half of it. Or did he? Had he spoken to the maid already? Had he seen him in the company of the sailor?

“I’m sorry- I didn’t mean to-“

“Sorry doesn’t get me my money.”

He wanted to cover himself underneath the carpet. Completely disappear like the filthy roach he was.

“I know.”

“Or your modeling career. Do you still want my help? Or Mister Kim’s?” he continued, sneering as he took a step closer. Stalking towards him.

Jongin could feel his skin crawling back. If he could, he’d take a step back as far as he could. But backing away from him was something the man liked even less. That was one of the lessons he had learned very early on.

He nodded back to him feverishly fast. Of course he wanted to. Of course, of course, of course.

“He has models prettier than you. More skilled than you,” his hot breath brushed against his forehead as he yanked him forward by the arm. It would leave a bruise behind, Jongin was sure. “What makes you think you deserve any of this?”

He didn’t know. Jongin honestly didn’t know. He tried to reply, tried to look him in the eyes with confidence, but he found nothing to back him up. He wasn’t even able to convince himself. Physically, Sehun’s hotheaded anger left him paralyzed.

“Because I believe in you, Jongin. I believe we’re going to be the next big thing.”

He didn’t even dare to let out a breath of relief as he loosened his grip on him, allowing Jongin to fall back to his feet.

Finally he turned away from him. “Oh, before it slips my mind. Mister Kim asked us if you’re comfortable with doing nudity.”

Jongin didn’t know what breathing was anymore.

“I told him you are.”

“Of course, Mister Oh.”


	4. Cinderella

Sitting in the make-up chair the next day, Jongin felt like crying as the artist tried to cover up the big, dark circles underneath his eyes. He hadn’t slept at all that night, too anxious about everything he had to do to even be concerned about the fact that he had lost one of his shoes. The ankle-twist yesterday morning was like a long, distant memory from a delirious dream.

Nudity. He was about to do nudity.

The one thing Jongin had always refused on doing up until now. Even with how many times mister Oh had tried to convince him to do so anyway, always making sure to emphasize how much bigger the sales were for models that agreed on stripping in front of the lens.

He wondered whether this had been a set goal of his from the beginning. Whether mister Kim had really asked him about it or if his manager had just made it up to finally lure him into doing it.

He never should’ve left dinner so early. Then at least if Kim Junmyeon was into nudity, he would’ve known the truth.

He didn’t have another choice. He couldn’t disappoint the man that helped building the RMS Titanic. The business man that owned enough money to make or break his entire career before it had even properly took off.

And his manager… he had disappointed him countless times before since they got onto the ship. He had paid for his tickets. As would he be paying for his living in space in New York. He couldn’t even allow his mind to follow the route or refusal.

No, he would do it. Mister Oh wouldn’t have tried to convince him if he didn’t see any potential in him, right? He could do this. He could do this.

“Leave us.”

His manager came in again just as the artist finished up doing his face make-up. Still snapping at the latter – his fingers playing an impatient song on his cane – yet he sounded much kinder to the crew member compared to the way he had acted to Jongin all morning so far.

It made him feel even worse.

He only did it for him to begin with. Because Oh Sehun thought it was a fabulous idea. And what did he get in return? Nothing. Not even kindness.

He switched positions with the artist when they left the room, an even more irritated frown on his face as he was now the one in charge of making Jongin’s body glisten with whatever soft of a product they used for that purpose.

He wanted to scream. The feeling of Oh Sehun’s fingers making him even more uncomfortable. Being turned into something ‘appetizing’ by a stranger was horrible, but this was even worse. The touch of someone he actually knew. Someone that made his blood crawl back in his veins by hearing his breathing alone. And right now, it sounded ragged.

He was fuming.

But they didn’t have time to only have another scolding. The shoot was already being prepared in the other room. People walking in and out of their suites with equipment after equipment. It made things even worse, knowing how people who passed the doorway in the hallways were able to look inside so easily.

He didn’t have any privacy left. The shoot would get published and he wouldn’t be able to escape the consequences of it for the rest of his life.

“Should I call you Cinderella now?” the dark-haired man in front of him spoke bluntly as he harshly dropped something on the glass tabletop in front of them.

His stomach dropped as he recognized what he had been fishing for in the inside pocket of his white blazer. A shoe. A navy colored shoe that looked identical to the ones he had been wearing yesterday. Or rather, the ones he was supposed to return in when he went to bed.

“I give you work,” he hissed as he started rubbing the product on his arms with way too much force, “I buy you expensive things. They cost a fortune, Jongin, and you lose them!”

“I didn’t-“ his voice died down as soon as he felt the grip around his neck.

“Didn’t you? Did that filthy employee steal it from you?”

The sailor. He had talked to the sailor.

Had he asked for money when he returned it? Of course, he only cared for his wealth. Only a fool wouldn’t have seen the amount of money he radiated when he asked for help in the dark of the night. Why else would one offer it at such an ungodly hour?

Was it a trap? Jongin considered lying. But if he did, the man would probably end up losing his job. And he had been too kind for him already. Saving him from falling, showing him around and pulling him away from the maid… and now he had even tried to return his shoe to him?

“He didn’t,” the model finally blurted out underneath the deadly glare his manager’s cold eyes were giving him. He didn’t want to be or feel so weak, but the tears were already starting to form in his eyes as he admitted with a small voice, “ I did. I lost the shoe.”

He felt guilty and cold as Sehun pushed his chin up, tilting his head for him as he muttered something to him about not ruining his make-up as well now. He had ruined enough things already.

All Jongin could think of as they started the photoshoot, was the mantra mister Oh had been repeating to him as he had worked the rest of the product into his skin.

_Don’t fuck this one up for me, Jongin._

They started off rather slow. His abs peeking through the blazer of the cobalt blue suit they put him in, or a pair of slacks with a shirt casually thrown over one shoulder. Simple shots in the corridor connected to their rooms, posing as he stood on the _chaise longue_ looking at one of the many paintings on the wall or in front of the headboard of the bed and the wallpapers behind it.

He wasn’t sure whether his manager had requested the photoshoot to be like that – to ease him into it – or Kim Junmyeon himself. What he did know however, was that every picture centering him also displayed the extravagant interior of the Titanic.

Promotion. Jongin was only meant to compliment the fancy _décor_. The public eye would look at him, all while envying the space he was in.

A smart business move, really. He had to give Kim Junmyeon that. He also had to applaud his manager for striking such a phenomenal deal in the first place. The first voyage of the Ship of Dreams was all what people talked about nowadays. All people who couldn’t afford a ticket, could only dream of seeing the inside. Only able to afford a newspaper or a catalogue, Jongin was the one chosen to present it to them.

An opportunity he just couldn’t pass on. Too good to be true. So he stripped, eager to please both his manager’s warning eyes and those of the nitpicky director seated behind the camera.

By the time he was completely naked, he was so submerged into the model-headspace that his mind went completely blank in front of the many prying eyes glued to his figure. Suddenly everything became easy. Throwing both his head and arms back. Angling his torso just the right way. Pouting his plump lips. He made lines with his body as he played with the covers shielding the most crucial parts from the camera lens. Knowing well enough how the camera would devour every little thing he graced them with.

He wasn’t conscious about it anymore. His manager hadn’t said a single word yet between the gasps coming from the other crew members. Meaning he must be doing well enough for him to remain that silent. It made Jongin grow in confidence, even going as far as silently hoping that Mister Oh would praise him for it after.

He swallowed as he accidently made eye-contact with the man sitting in the single chair in the corner of the room. His eyes were dark as he eyed him intently, leaning forward on the cane he had planted in between his legs. He was judging him.

Whether he was still worth his time, his money, his care.

Jongin couldn’t afford to lose his career. He really needed it all. So he tilted his head back even more as he looked at him from underneath his set of dark lashes, waiting for his silent nod of approval.

It never came.

His piercing voice only audible when one of the lights in the room started flickering.

Jongin tried to pose through it as a true professional, but Sehun wouldn’t have any of it. Instead, he bossed one of the crew members around to get a technician to fix it. Something he was only able to get away with because Mister Kim wasn’t present in the room with them. Meaning his manager was now the richest person around.

He decided to close his eyes for a second after rolling over onto his side, head resting on a splayed out arm. He could still hear the camera shooting pictures of his naked self. Probably greedy for the _au naturel_ aesthetic as well.

The feathery light touch of a makeup brush sweeping across his eyelids caught him by surprise, making him giggle for a short moment as he remembered the wash of gold they had put on top of them earlier. Beautiful shimmery makeup had always been one of the better sides of the job, he thought.

“Jongin, love, get on with it,” the sharp voice from his manager came again.

It sounded odd. Too kind, considering he had just dozed off during the small break they had allowed him. He was just so tired…

“Some of us are not in bed for work.”

He managed to fight his tired eyes, opening them to the sight of the camera crew still having trouble with the equipment. However, they did find a technician to help them out. A victim, rather, to hold the damaged wire in the right position while they continued.

Upon seeing the hunched over figure, Jongin felt sorry. But not as much as he did for himself when the spots in front of his vision cleared and he recognized the man sitting in front of him.

 _Doh Kyungsoo_.

“Jongin?” The director tried to grab his attention again.

His fingers immediately pulled at the bedsheets, covering himself all the way up to his chin.

 _It just had to be him_. Out of all nine hundred workers on that damned ship, it just had to be the poor soul he had made himself look like a fool in front of multiple times already.

The bedsheets weren’t enough to hide the blush creeping up on his face. How much he wanted to sink into the duvet and never be seen again.

“Jongin?”

He blinked a few times before realizing what he was doing, lowering the sheets back to the level the photoshoot required them to be.

The self-consciousness was back. No- he was confident. Just not underneath _his_ eyes. It seemed to be their thing: creating all sorts of embarrassing situations for Jongin where Kyungsoo was the one who turned out saving him.

The sailor continued to stare at him a little bit longer. Shamelessly, even. But just as Jongin noticed it, the moment seized to exist.

The model was quick enough to look away from him. Remembering the director’s voice and the other particular person in the room. He had looked at him way too long already, and mister Oh had eagle-eyes.

He was glad to have a book shoved into his hands next to model with. Another sponsor for the RMS Titanic, apparently. At least the thing gave him something to look at as he tried to work himself through the rest of the photoshoot without having his muscles tensed all too visibly.

When the cue to wrap everything up finally came, Jongin was more than eager to throw the sheets over his splayed out body before his unwanted guest was able to look up from the wire he had been holding the entire time.

He had seen him cleaning the deck and now he had sat through an entire photoshoot like this. What exactly was his job on the ship? He obviously was being bossed around and Jongin felt bad for him, truly. Knowing what lack of freedom really felt like now.

As the camera crew started cleaning up their equipment and leaving the room, Jongin felt empty inside.

The last part of himself – his self-worth – gone. Sold to the public. In some way, it didn’t feel like he owned his own body anymore. They might as well tattoo _property of Oh Sehun_ on his forehead. If the man wanted that on him, he probably would’ve had it on him already. No, he realized he never had a choice to begin with.

He had almost hoped – expected – Kyungsoo would say something to him after wrapping up the shoot. Telling him how he had tried to bring his shoe back, for example. Something about this very awkward situation. Anything would’ve been fine, really. But he hadn’t. He had followed his manager into the other room and Jongin couldn’t blame him. He wouldn’t have said no to mister Oh either, certainly not at the smell of money.

He couldn’t hear anything they were saying in there. But when the sailor emerged from the room, he didn’t even shot him another glance anymore as he left their suites.

Their little _rendez-vous_ was over. He had his paycheck.

He really shouldn’t be disappointed in it anymore. People were all the same after all. Yet, he still was. And he couldn’t keep it away from his facial expression.

“Cinderella ends up leaving the mice for the ball, Jongin,” Sehun’s sneering voice came from the doorway, a smug grin on his face as he leaned against it with his arms crossed in front of his chest. “Time to leave your little friend behind.”


	5. The painting on the wall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning!!! (check the tags)

And so to the magical ball that evening he went. But if he was Cinderella, then Oh Sehun resembled the evil stepmother just as much as mister Kim resembled the charming prince he so desperately had to leave a good impression on.

His only way out of the miserable day to day reality he faced.

It seemed to be going pretty so good so far. Dressed in the bright blue suit he had also been put in during the first half of the photoshoot, the people around them weren’t able to keep their eyes of him. Including the man seated right opposite him.

Kim Junmyeon seemed to be on cloud nine the entire night. He couldn’t stop talking about how excited he was to see the result of the shoot, as his manager on his part kept emphasizing how exquisite Jongin had looked _without_ the blazer and how proud of a manager he was, now that his managing-skills really showed through it.

Of course, Oh Sehun had to go and make this all about himself again. Jongin wouldn’t have expected it to be any other way. Dressed in black from head to toe, he looked like a million dollars. Dollars they’d soon have, if everything went according to his manager’s ambitious, greedy plans.

But even when he wasn’t really talking about _him_ , it still got the heat spreading over across Jongin’s cheeks. Oddly enough it even made his heart swell, his eyes glimmer and a timid smile pop onto his face as he listened to all of the praise going on for him tonight.

He could easily lie to himself that it wasn’t all fake. That Oh Sehun at least meant _some_ of it. Even if it wasn’t really much, it was _something_. And to Jongin… that meant everything.

He had been dreading this evening all day, but perhaps the night would turn out to be better than he ever could’ve imagined it to be. For the first time in forever, Jongin returned the smile on Sehun’s face with sincere happiness.

He did it. He made him happy. Proud, maybe? He was almost scared about allowing such a thought to form itself into his brain. Maybe thinking it, would ruin it straightaway.

But in the middle of that fantastic ballroom and the shining light - the bright chandelier casted on the golden interior of the titanic - the twinkle in his manager’s eyes didn’t lie.

He went to dance and continued socializing and mingling with the first class all throughout the evening. All while keeping an eye on his manager and his gaze. Searching for the meaningless expression, but being met by an approving nod instead.

It truly was a nice feeling.

Fulfilling. Appreciation he didn’t want to lose again.

So he made sure he wouldn’t.

By the time his manager ushered him to return to their chambers, it was very late in the evening. Almost midnight, only this time both Jongin and Sehun kept a very close eye on the mules on his feet. He wasn’t going to lose another shoe, even though he easily would’ve been able to because of how tired he was already.

He was wobbling on his legs. Feet hurting because of those agonizing shoes and quick paced dances he had been throwing himself into all night. His ankle protesting, letting him know how it still ached and would ache for a while too. But Jongin ignored it.

He craved for a bath and the warming comforters of his bed. And home. Perhaps he missed Paris already after all.

The voyage inside the ship just didn’t seem to come to an end. And now he wasn’t sure what was making him feel so drowsy again. The seasickness or exhaustion? Or maybe even the little amount of wine he had been offered. He never was one to handle his alcoholic beverages very well.

His manager seemed to notice the shift in his mood too, as he got him out of the elevator by an arm and lazily dragged him along behind him. The sound of his cane hitting the carpet next to his every step counting as a clear indicator for how agonizingly slow their pace was. It was only then Jongin linked it to the smell of bourbon coming off of the other’s clothes.

“See, that wasn’t as hard to do right?” the sweet voice of mister Oh came to tickle at his ears as soon as they entered their shared, expensive suites.

Jongin couldn’t exactly follow what he was referring to this time around. Sitting through dinner and the entire ball, or the shoot today? But the smug grin on Sehun’s face revealed he had probably meant both.

“You earned me so much money today, darling,” he mumbled with the tongue of a drunk man, but with a surprising amount of force in his body still as he wrapped an arm around his waist to pull him closer.

Impossibly closer.

Jongin was the one filling his days with a full time modelling career, but now he didn’t know what to do with his body. He had no idea where to keep his hands or limbs, holding the both of them curled up in front of his chest. Using his elbows as a way to keep some distance between them and avoid as much contact with the man pressed flush against his torso as he possibly could.

It almost turned out to be a hopelessly unattainable task, even with as much alcohol running through his manager’s system as the whiskey on his tongue suggested.

How much he wanted to vomit because of the taste.

The disgustingly strong smell penetrating his nose alongside it. Like he suddenly wore his cologne even stronger than he already did.

The bed in close proximity. The sight of it triggering the memory of how he had spread himself on it just hours before. Naked as the day he was born, right in front of his eyes. And now his flush body and the intruding tongue making its way to the back of his throat.

The room started spinning as if his seasickness had made a sudden return.

Gasping turned out to be the wrong decision. The perfume clawing its way down his throat, pulling the contents of his stomach up.

He gagged. Loud enough to have the insatiable monster change his mind. Turning him around. Shoving him face-first into the invaluable wallpaper.

Frozen – paralyzed from fear – he stood throughout it. Cheek chafing against the wall. A hand around his neck forcefully keeping him in place.

The painting beside his head silently watching.

Suddenly that one night didn’t seem that black anymore.


	6. You. Me.

He had no idea how long he had been wandering the halls of the RMS Titanic already. Time seemed to be a non-existent thing on the Ship of Dreams. Although Jongin now thought _the Ship of Nightmares_ or _the Ship of Insomnia_ would’ve been a better fitting name for it. He wasn’t sure whether he would ever be able to fall asleep on it again after what had happened.

He didn’t know where he was going exactly, walking around the floors aimlessly as he had spaced out too much to find the way back on his own. He needed help, yet he didn’t want to ask it from strangers who would see something was wrong and would question it. And of course, they would talk. How they had helped out a crying Kim Jongin in the middle of the night on board of a floating piece of metal in the middle of the vast ocean.

How much he wanted to jump off now. But even trying something like that would reach the ears of the man who’s fault it all was to begin with.

Or was it though? Maybe it was his. Maybe he had provoked him by staring at him that way. Or maybe he shouldn’t be so sensitive about it. He was his model after all. His _moneymaker_.

His little Parisian marionette.

When Jongin’s mind had stopped working, his feet had seemed to swoop in with one of their own. They carried and carried and carried him – even when his ankle hurt and his eyes begged him to stop because he couldn’t see where he was going – lower and lower on every floor until he felt the hot tiles underneath his bare feet and recognized the corridors with his bloodshot eyes.

Except he had no idea where he was. Only the knowledge that he was safe. One thing was certain: his manager would never come down there on his own accord.

So he allowed himself to sink down there. On a spot right next to the last staircase he had descended – a cold piece of floor – because he didn’t want to risk losing it once again. The faint, red hues of the emergency light above his head barely reached his face.

He might’ve fallen asleep right there. Unsure of what hour the clock struck during that godforsaken night, or how many minutes had already passed since the moment he sat down.

When a pair of heavy boots suddenly walked down the steps right next to his head. The metal echoing eerily through the abandoned hallways.

Then they came to a stop. 

He ran. He ran as quick as his numb feet could carry him in the middle of the night. Like a sinner to church on the last Sunday before Easter.

The heavy, labored breathing of his pursuer catching up on him.

Fingers at the back of his blazer.

His arms got caught in the fabric as he tried to shake it off. Sobbing. Wailing in despair as he tried to fight him off.

He couldn’t see his face this time. And maybe that was worse. The pitch-black night robbing him from his sight. Only left to feel and smell-

A worker’s hand.

“Jongin.”

There was no hallway anymore. No ship everything went to hell on. No smiles and touches Jongin was afraid of, as Jongin fell to the sailor’s chest and let go. Quietly sobbing his heart out with long and heavy breaths.

There was no amount of time in the world – in the rest of his days – that would heal him from this scar. Nothing that would make him forget everything.

Nothing that made him worthy of the kindness he was receiving right now. Nor the treatment he had been receiving from this man for the past two days.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for- I lied to you. And I lost my shoe and I-“ he choked up, “You didn’t steal it. I didn’t thank you. I’m ruining- “ _Your clothes_. _Everything._ But he couldn’t form the words anymore.

“You’re not-“

“I hate him,” Jongin blurted out when he felt the stranger pull back. He probably shouldn’t say it out loud on the hallway, but he was far from caring at this point. “Please, I- I hate him.”

He didn’t want him to escort him back to the wolf waiting for him in his chambers. Didn’t want to be left alone again with himself and his dark, dark mind.

Yet Kyungsoo didn’t hesitate to come closer. Even in the middle of the night with a shipwreck caged in between his arms, he didn’t even seem to think twice to go down with him.

He was still shaking from head to toe when they both quietly decided that they couldn’t just stand there on that hallway forever. Where everyone who still roamed the halls this late at night would be able to see them and talk about it the day after. The sailor mustn’t have been the only one finishing up a late shift.

While the other motioned him to tag along with him to his room, all that echoed through Jongin’s head was how stupid he had been to call himself _Nini_ to this man.

Someone who clearly didn’t deserve the lies he had fed him.

He helped him inside of his room, turning the lights on before he suggested for him to crawl his way into the bunk bed with him. A bit hesitant about it, clearly taken aback by the sight of the model’s tear-stained face and already swollen eyelids.

But to Jongin it didn’t even come across as a question. He instinctively followed it as if it were a command. So used to being tossed around and being told what to do. But most of all, he was still afraid. Even when his gut feeling had brought him to follow the man blindly.

By the time he had them laying down next to each other in the way too small, metal frame of the bunk bed, the model’s breathing had become irregular. Maybe the ceiling was coming at him, maybe something was pushing the mattress towards it. At least he was able to tell how spotlessly white it really was through his tears.

“You could’ve just told me who you were,” the man beside him was almost whispering, a warm arm pressed against his as he spoke. It really was a tight fit.

He should’ve. He really should’ve.

“Although I think I can understand your reasoning.”

Jongin tried to swallow the guilt away as he gave him an almost unnoticeable nod. Admitting it didn’t take away how much of an awful person he really was.

“How is your ankle doing?” he then asked as if he wanted to fill up the silence between them. Him and the stranger in his room – in his bed.

He couldn’t agree more. He himself not very keen on silence either. Even when he was often the cause of it, because the very thing he disliked more than silence was talking.

“Numb.”

It took him a while to decide on the word. It was the only one coming closest to the truth. He felt _numb_. Physically. Mentally. His fingers unconsciously snaked to the sore spots on his neck. He could still feel the ghost of Sehun’s touch. “Everything’s just… _numb_.”

Even if he wanted to talk to him, something in him told him his voice wouldn’t allow him to. As if even his own body was against him. Forging a pact with his devilish manager to keep all of his dirty secrets in. Maybe that was just the death-contract he had signed.

“In a room full of people, have you ever felt like the whole world was against you?” his voice barely got louder than a choked whisper as he continued to stare at the empty ceiling. “Have you ever felt like you constantly needed to prove yourself? Even when I’m breathing, the person next to me is breathing prettier.”

God, how much he envied the sailor’s calm and collected, deep breathing at the moment. Why did he feel like something bad was coming for him again? Or like he only had five seconds to speak?

He gave him a sad smile as he turned his head to the side, his hand still laying draped loosely around his own neck. As if the touch of his own fingers had to keep him in the present, reminding him that the claws had let go of him.

There was a flash of an expectation in those warm brown eyes when the sailor slightly tilted his head to the side to look at him. Some confusion after. Followed by a deep-set frown on his forehead.

Hollow. The word he had been looking for was _hollow_.

Like everything and everyone around him was always looking through him. The world of glitz and glamour he was living in was a shallow one. They treated him as a pretty _façade_ , no interest in whatever laid on the inside.

Perhaps there wasn’t anything left inside of him anymore.

Maybe Oh Sehun had used his monstrous claws to dig every last and living piece of his own spark up from his soul. The last living bit of him that had ambitions and dreams of his own.

No, it was a shallow world filled with creepy nightmares. The man with the cane being the one to pull his marionette strings. If he wanted Jongin to break, so he would.

His name falling from between the sailor’s lips sounded just like anyone else’s voice had so far in his life. He almost wished he wouldn’t have used it. It only reminded him of the _thing_ – the life, the image – he so desperately wanted to escape from now, and all the lies he had tried to sell him because of it.

He couldn’t bear to look him in the eye as he continued talking. The sympathy and the sincerity in his expression too much to handle all at once. His soothing voice crashing over him as he closed his eyes and allowed himself to believe the words.

“I can promise you, when you walk into a room, heads will turn, because you are beautiful.”

With his hand still resting on his own neck and his face tilted sideways like this, the view was still worthy of a magazine frontpage.

“And those same heads will make up gossip because that’s what people _do_. They are easily jealous. But if they would actually take some time to get to know the real you – I’m sure they would be surprised.”

The bells in his head started ringing at those words. Warning signs. Opinions. He was assuming he knew him well enough already. His manager had been right, he had been too close with _the mice_.

“You are sweet, Jongin.” There was a moment of silence as the sailor gave some thoughts to his next words. “Maybe that’s your downfall?”

His eyes shot open at that, surprised at the sudden conclusion.

“I- I’m sorry,” he immediately apologized as the model lifted his head slightly from the mattress to be able to look him in the eye. “I don’t want to intrude or talk about things I know nothing about.”

“Maybe it’s yours too.”

Here they were after all. Two bodies crammed in a way too small space as he rested his head on the pillows again. Muscles noticeably relaxing at that.

He couldn’t give out _risqué_ information like that to strangers. Shouldn’t either. But he wanted to. Part of him felt like he owned the man next to him an explanation as to why he had given him a ridiculous nickname like _Nini_.

He started laughing. Almost hysterical, even. A laughter that only grew at the thought of how the man had managed to keep a straight face at that. It was just too absurd.

“Just- _You_ , out of all people on this ship,” he managed to blurt out in between silent giggles, “ _you_.”

“ _Me_ ,” the not-such-a-stranger-anymore stranger chuckled next to him.

Jongin didn’t know when Kyungsoo had started laughing along with him exactly. But somewhere in between all of it, part of the weight pushing down on him got lifted from his chest. A weight that didn’t return when their laughing finally died down.

Instead, he smiled timidly at the stranger next to him.

“I guess we’re even now, after this morning,” he mumbled slowly, feeling how heavy his eyelids had become as he tried to fight the sleep off just a little longer.

They both had experienced their fair share of embarrassment in front of each other now. Well, maybe not quite equal. But still enough for the model to be able to live with.

“But I guess I should still thank you,” he continued as he slowly rolled over to his side. He had grown uncomfortable from the iron frame awkwardly poking against his ribs. “For catching my career, and my shoe, and…” He started slurring his words more and more as he slowly drifted off to sleep.

“And?” he still heard the sailor ask, but it sounded so distant already.

_me…_


	7. Show me

_And me._

Perhaps falling had been the easiest thing he had done on the entire trip so far. Going down – losing everything – was fast. Getting back up again, however, was difficult.

Everything Jongin had worked for back in Paris. Had it been him, or had it all been Sehun’s money that had gotten him that far? Was it even worth it now, to go somewhere else when he already had it all back home?

No, he didn’t have it all. But he had enough. Back in Paris _he had enough_.

Selfish. Jongin had been selfish.

Why hadn’t he just given mister Oh wat he wanted? Why wasn’t he able to do anything? He started to wonder why he had even bothered to buy him a ticket for the voyage. Why he had decided on sponsoring and keeping him around for so long. He had been right: there were prettier models. More talented models. More hardworking models.

In the end, Jongin did nothing. He just sat around, trying to look as pretty as he could, while Oh Sehun did all the talking. Surprisingly enough catching all sorts of deals as soon as that eel-like tongue started moving. And then there was him… not even able to answer simple questions directed to him. Like some sort of mute.

He was stupid. He didn’t deserve all of this attention. But he had gotten it. He had been lucky to be able to live out this life. Make a living off of it too. Thanks to Oh Sehun. And the thought of having it stripped away from him again – of being accused of being an ungrateful brat too – was something Jongin wouldn’t be able to live with.

Falling had been an easy thing indeed. Falling asleep had happened so fast just then. It had felt like the blink of an eye, yet suddenly hours had passed. Or so he guessed. He wasn’t sure.

It took him a moment to remember everything.

A minute to distinguish his surroundings from his bedroom in Paris. To link the metal framed bed to the ship again. A second to remember the exact part of the ship.

A bunk bed. Lower class. A certain sailor. And all of the warmth radiating off of his small body, squished flush against his own.

He had fallen asleep on him, feeling guilty about it as soon as he realized it. He had claimed the way too tiny bed as his own, all while he himself owned one of the most ridiculously king-sized beds on the ship.

 _Selfish_.

Although he couldn’t quite be the one to blame. He could feel the movements of the ship slowly cradle him back to sleep again. Added by the warmth of the sailor underneath him, it lured him back to it like some sort of siren.

And Jongin wanted to follow it. Wanted to crash onto the cliffs. Wanted to fall again if it meant that every time he did, the sailor would be there to catch him.

He could feel the warmth of his own breath against his own face. He figured out it must’ve been the reason why he had woken up so suddenly, because the man pressed right next to him was still resting completely unmovable on top of the mattress.

But the rise and fall of the sailor’s chest betrayed him. He wasn’t sleeping at all.

When the model moved his head upwards to take a peek at his face however, he wasn’t expecting him to have his eyes open and staring back at him already.

Slightly taken aback by it, he didn’t quite believe it at first. Maybe he had the bad habit of sleeping with his eyes open. He wouldn’t know it. He was still a stranger, after all.

He could’ve send him away – it was still his room after all – but he hadn’t. he had let him sleep. Had even rolled over onto his side so Jongin’s legs were able to fit in as well. And probably so the model’s cold feet wouldn’t brush against his.

He only smiled to the face in front of him – his own still struck by the remnants of blissful sleep – as he moved his head to rest on the one and only small pillow as well. Their eyes now at the same level. He snaked a hand in between them under the pillows.

His fingers accidently brushing against his.

They shared the same habit, he so stupidly discovered. The smile on his face beaming even brighter at the thought.

There wasn’t as much light inside of the room anymore as there was before he fell asleep. At some point Kyungsoo must’ve turned them off, but he hadn’t even felt him climb out of the bed. Hadn’t even noticed him throwing a blanket over the both of them either, apparently.

It was the first time he noticed the small window at the top of the little sleeping cabin too.

The room wasn’t comfortable at all, but for Jongin it was enough. After everything that had happened, it was enough. Even if he could feel his seasickness catching up on him already.

Or maybe the face in front of him was making him lightheaded.

While sleep was still making his sight drowsy, he could tell Kyungsoo’s eyes were focused on him. Beautiful, big eyes. Bright eyes. He must’ve been awake for some time already.

Waiting for him to wake up, probably? Watching him sleep?

He should’ve been creeped out by it, but something inside of him wouldn’t mind letting him do it again.

“What were you thinking of?” the model decided to break the pleasant silence, that had fallen between them, with a whisper. A silence Jongin missed as soon as he broke it, much to his very own surprise.

He liked the sound of them just breathing in sync. But now he couldn’t hear his own breath anymore.

There was something about Kyungsoo’s face. Even though it almost held none to zero expressions most of the time. That _je ne sais quoi_ Jongin could easily get addicted to.

Big unreadable, yet at the same time the most innocent looking eyes one could have. The faint hint of a smile tugging at his plump lips. And freckles. Thousands of them scattered all across his cheeks, so little and light in color he would’ve missed them hadn’t he gotten any closer.

He had missed out on a lot of things in his life before. Time with his loves ones, privacy and freedom. But at least he didn’t miss out on this.

In the moment silence fell over them again like a warm blanket and waves continued crashing against the sides of the ship at a comforting rhythm, something else lingered in the cabin.

Something intoxicating.

And he didn’t understand why his chest started to feel heavier and heavier against as the time between his question and Kyungsoo’s answer grew bigger and bigger.

Was he trying to come up with a lie as to not hurt his feelings? Had he been thinking about ways to get him out of his room? He probably regretted inviting him, or stopping in the first place.

“You.”

It was a good answer. The safest one he could give him even, without a doubt. Because with that _one_ simple confession, he hadn’t said anything wrong. But he also hadn’t said anything right.

He should get up. He should just leave already. Grant him his last bit of rest before morning came again and both of them had to confront the harsh face of reality a gain. But the mattress had them glued together and Jongin just couldn’t seem to rip himself lose from him.

“I have to admit, I don’t know you,” Kyungsoo continued to entrance Jongin with an equally silent voice as Jongin’s curious whisper, “but I wouldn’t mind getting to know you better… if you want to as well.”

There was a short pause. One where both of them stared at each other, disbelief on the model’s features and uncertainty on the other’s. The latter an emotion the model could barely differentiate from the sailor’s normal expression in the darkness of the room, but he could pick it up in his voice as the man continued with a shy: “I really hope you want to get to know me…”

People never asked to get to know _them_. All they wanted was to know him. To intrude his life. To stick their noses up into his business and comment on it as if they had the right to say anything.

The confession baffled him. Leaving him speechless.

The sailor rubbed himself in the eyes with his free hand as he mumbled an apology. Ashamed. Something about not being good with words and the added tiredness to that.

Even if it was just a distraction, the model couldn’t stand the look of his fingers creating crow’s feet wrinkles next to his eyes. Just like he had been taught. Before he even thought about it, his hand shot up to brush his away.

Brushing a thumb across the space he just cleared before he was even aware of what he was doing.

The inability to speak returned together with an uncomfortable silence. He was holding his face now though. Didn’t that count as a clear answer?

“Show me everything there is then?” he questioned back. Because Jongin also didn’t like talking. His world was a world of visions after all.

When words weren’t enough, they could just show each other.

And right now no words came as close to expressing his need to be genuinely loved as the brushing of his own nose against his and the shy crashing of inexperienced lips on the face in front of him.

Accidently kissing his chin instead.

Luckily for him the room was too dark for Kyungsoo to see his crimson-burned cheeks from embarrassment as he chuckled slightly in amusement. He would love to blame the darkness as the reason why he had missed his lips in the first place, but he had to be honest with himself now: he would’ve missed them in broad daylight as well.

The timbre of his little laugh made his insides twits, both from excitement and unease. In Jongin’s world people’s chuckles often carried something else: either a warning, or a mocking.

But Kyungsoo’s little laugh didn’t carry any of those hidden meanings. It was so refreshingly different.

His breath caught in his throat as he felt the touch at his jaw. Sleep had been enough to get rid of the ghost of mister Oh’s fingers, but it hadn’t been enough to get rid of the memory.

A rough worker’s hand guiding him up so their lips were aligned. And then their lips touched. A soft moment of pure bliss and hidden lustful cravings.

The both of them getting caught up in the smell of expensive perfumes, the softness of Jongin’s delicious lips and the way he appeared to be utterly virgin underneath the sailor’s touch.

It only took him a second to kiss back.

The hold around Jongin’s jaw was different enough to banish all bad memories. So loving and gentle when it moved to his cheek, he already missed it once it was gone to travel onwards to other places Jongin enjoyed feeling them. Still, _it just wasn’t the same_.

The grip on his waist made him conscious again of the hand that had laid there only mere hours before.

Yet, he still wanted it all at the same time. Realizing how greedy he really was as his hand underneath the pillow travelled to where his fingers had accidently met Kyungsoo’s just moments ago. Getting lost in him as he intertwined them next to his head, his back now pressed into the mattress underneath the as they shifted their weight together. Completely lost in the moment.

“Kiss me like there’s no tomorrow,” the man leaning over him panted, feeling how Jongin was still unconsciously holding back. 

Here he had tried to claim he wasn’t good at words. The entire thing was so effortlessly romantic, Jongin had just about managed to hold back a laugh. _The ship of dreams_. He wouldn’t even be surprised if he woke up in his own suites again to the bitter reality that it had in fact turned out to be exactly that. A childishly, hopeful daydream.

His free hand snaked around the wrist connected to the hand buried at the nape of his neck as he gasped for air, smiling into the kiss with a newfound enamour in life.

 _Together_. There would be a life together.

The thought of going back to a life without him felt like suffering. Like torture. And yet, he wasn’t certain if it would be possible. Cinderella ends up with the prince forever, right?

“There isn’t,” he choked out with closed eyes after nudging him back with his nose. He was panting as well – completely breathless, heart thumping in his ears – but he didn’t regret any of it. “Let’s pretend there isn’t.” _A tomorrow_.

So many thoughts racing through his head. Barely able to voice them. Yet somehow, he managed.

“Show me the life I can’t live.”


	8. (No) tomorrow

In the back of his mind Jongin knew there was indeed no tomorrow. There was no chance for them to be together. Neither on this ship, nor off it.

After this night – a night that had begun tragically and had ended up being beautiful – he would have to go back to the claws of his manager. A man with wants and needs. A man who _most certainly_ wouldn’t give up until he got what he wanted from the people around him.

And Jongin would return to being pretty wallpaper.

The little game he had come up with was better than facing the sad truth. At least, for now.

He wouldn’t blame Kyungnsoo though if he considered him crazy for it. But it turned out the sailor in front of him was just as much of a lunatic, answering him with a poor choice of words: “let me take you.”

They both ended up laughing. He himself furiously blushing at the comment.

He kind of regretted proposing things in the first place when Kyungsoo made the both of them get out of bed. They were halfway past the Atlantic already. Sailing through northern waters at high speed. Any minute ticking away was a minute closer to New York.

He hadn’t realized that up until now, now that every minute spent felt like borrowed time. Suddenly he didn’t want to arrive at the other side of the world anymore.

And they wouldn’t. There was no tomorrow. Only the hours leading up to it according to their little fantasy world.

They would make them count.

A smile broke onto his features as he hurried to slip his arms into the coat he got offered by the smaller man in front of him. It would be cold out there on the deck, but it would be worth it. He wouldn’t have to care about feeling cold ever again anyway. No tomorrow meant no consequences, right?

Still Kyungsoo forced him inside of a pair of black socks to protect his naked feet from the biting wind.

“I promise you won’t hurt your ankle this time,” he grinned as soon as he spotted Jongin’s skeptical look towards them. Like those would be any match to the slippery deck.

 _No tomorrow, no care for a broken ankle or not,_ Jongin wanted to say but didn’t – their fantasy world only went so far. Instead, he slipped his hand into the sailor’s without hesitation. Accepting the way he treated him as if he were glass for a second, not because of how much money he earned him but because _he actually cared_.

For the first time in what seemed like centuries, Jongin didn’t look back as he hurried around the halls behind the smaller man. There would be no gossip tomorrow anyway. Surprisingly not because there wasn’t a tomorrow in his head. No, _there weren’t any people_.

It made him wonder why he hadn’t come out at night earlier.

Especially now that the nigh sky above their heads was filled with an infinite amount of stars. The ocean laid ahead and around them like it had no beginning nor an end. Making it easy for him to pretend that they would indeed never see land again. That they wouldn’t get to New York at all.

“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” Kyungsoo seemed to be just as much in awe with the world as him, not even diverting his eyes from the star-filled sky when he asked him that question. “That bright one over there is the North Star. And together with those stars,” he pointed them out one by one for him with one hand, as the other was holding on to the white, metal railing, “that’s the Little Bear.”

He couldn’t quite follow him there – if he were quite honest, _not at all_ actually – but he didn’t mind. It still made him smile like a child.

Made him wonder how much time the man had spent out here already, turning the stars above his head into silent friends.

He wanted to thank him for it. For getting him out here. For showing him something so-

He let out a tiny shriek of surprise as he suddenly felt a cold hand slipping into his, dragging him away from the edge of the ship they had been standing at together seconds ago. He wanted to laugh at Kyungsoo for doing so – making things so exciting, like a true game – but the sound of a door and nearing footsteps snapped him out of that feeling like a cold, reality shower.

What if it was Sehun? What if he had been looking for him this entire time after he had left? Their romantic fantasy would really come true then. He really wouldn’t live to see another day.

Without Kyungsoo, Jongin would’ve just stood there frozen on the spot. But the sailor was quick enough to act, motioning him along the deck with him to-

 _the closest lifeboat_.

The model’s toes curled at the sight of it. Even though even those were built to match the _grandeur_ of the ship, they were still way too small and crammed for his taste. Especially with the white fabric stretched over it to protect the inside while it laid unused on the deck.

“Go,” Kyungsoo ushered, a hand pushing softly into his lower back before he grabbed onto Jongin’s hand again as he held the fabric open for him.

He stared dumbfounded at the man next to him. They really couldn’t be doing this, it was _illegal_. Mister Oh would be beyond rage if he had to pay him out for something as ridiculous as this. And yet at the same time, the thought of the same man coming out here and finding them like this, seeing them together – ruining everything – was the exact thing that drove him to get inside the construction.

He gasped for air as soon as Kyungsoo’s back hit the bottom of the lifeboat as well. Not that it was all too different from the tiny bunk bed they had shared a little earlier. But at the same time it was. It really was.

And so the situation went. Here he was, doing something he shouldn’t with a man he had only met yesterday.

The freezing finger against his lips stopped him from bursting into a fit of laughter. There was real worry in the other’s eyes now as the footsteps got closer. Jongin didn’t even dare to breathe when they hovered around their hiding space for a moment, until they finally died away in the distance.

He continued looking at the sailor next to him with uncertain eyes.

The relieved sigh falling from the man’s mouth was the most blissful thing he had heard in his life. “This wasn’t exactly part of the plan,” he chuckled.

But Jongin couldn’t laugh along with him just yet, as he stared at him with big eyes and admiration for how he had come up with a solution like the one he had so quickly.

Was this what his life was all about? Doing things which weren’t allowed and escaping punishment right in time? How many times had he gotten himself into tricky situations before, like some vagabond?

His breathing turned shallow when he realized what he had gotten himself into. It was irresponsible. Dangerous. Exciting. New.

“Your fingers are cold,” he whispered back at him as he tilted his head to be more comfortable next to him, realizing it had been resting on top of a life vest the entire time. He chuckled slightly at that, shaking his head in disbelief.

They were really doing this.

“Was there a plan in the first place?” he asked, curious about what they would’ve done if they had remained on the deck outside. But judging from the look in the other’s eyes and the bright blush spreading all over the little freckles covering his cheeks, he could tell there clearly wasn’t.

For once it wasn’t him being shy at whatever Kyungsoo had said.

His heart grew bigger at the sight of those freckles swallowed into a sea of pink. Making him look innocent. Youthful.

And that’s when the model realized he didn’t even know his age. He had just assumed he was older, as someone with more experience in life often was wiser anyway.

How much of an age difference was there really between them? He couldn’t be that much younger or older than him, right? Then again, Jongin’s model career had taken off at a pretty young age compared to his competition, and sailors… Jongin didn’t really know what the minimum age to become one really was nowadays.

He let out an almost inaudible, high-pitched yelp at the coldness of Kyungsoo’s fingers travelled to his cheek. It was soon gone though. The rough skin of his hand left his cheek feeling ablaze, so much Jongin was convinced they must’ve been of some similar color to Kyungsoo’s by the time their lips met again.

Every time the sailor touched him, Jongin’s mind was unable to function by itself anymore. As if it was equally addicted to his taste as his body was by now. To the warmth and security it gave him. And to the blissful robbery that happened every time Kyungsoo seemed to enter his mind. Snatching away all bad thoughts that haunted him in there. Replacing them with better things.

“Kyungsoo?”

He really shouldn’t be doing this out on the deck – _he_ really shouldn’t be doing this with _him_ – in the first place. But he couldn’t stop himself from wanting more. From wanting every little bit of it gone – _to the last of it_ – from his mind. And he was the only way to get to that.

He had fallen for him long before already. Yesterday seemed to be ages ago. Tomorrow? Closer than ever.

He stopped holding back as soon as Kyungsoo’s lips buried themselves into his neck. Allowing his guard to fall down, joining everything else on the list of things that already had.

All he could see and smell in front of him were the black the black strands of hair that smelled of salty sea air and unmistakably a sailor. He wasn’t rich. He didn’t have perfumes to cover himself in like Jongin excessively did every day. But it was _him_. And in between his body scent, Jongin was able to catch notes of his own perfume that had caught onto his clothes.

His lips continued their way across his skin until every inch of Jongin’s neck had been attended by Kyungsoo’s love. Chasing away Sehun’s evilness, as if the sailor had smelled the distress on his skin.

Turned out there was an existing cure for it. To make him forget, even if it was only temporarily.

As long as Kyungnsoo was still there, he would stay gone.

He was lucky he had always been the silent type. That way his open mouth wouldn’t betray them when it fell open in utter bliss. He had to grasp onto the thick sweater the man was still wearing, nails digging in the fabric, to keep himself from throwing his arms above his head and distorting the white fabric above them.

His eyes shot open when he remembered it. “They’re going to see us-“ he hesitated just as his lovers hands were brushing at the edge of his _pantalon_.

“Please?”

“Here?” Jongin’s voice shot up high in disbelief at the suggestion. But such kind expectation was visible in the other’s eyes, not even an inexperienced virgin like him would’ve been able to say no.

He had no clue where to start – especially not in a lifeboat. But the ship of dreams really seemed to be the place to do things he had never done before.

He turned them on their sides rather clumsily, rolling over and at the same time forgetting Kyungsoo was still seated on top of him. Luckily the life vests underneath them made the entire move a bit softer, except for the wooden sitting benches next to them. He awkwardly hit his head against it before Jongin moved to rest his hand on the spot closest to the smaller’s head to prevent it happening again.

He hesitated as he stared into his eyes, before his gaze travelled downwards to the plump set of lips. Red from all the kisses they had showered him in. Continuing downwards, his stomach was slightly showing underneath his riled up sweater.

He was painfully aware of the place where Kyungsoo’s hips connected to his and the way his legs were wrapped around him now.

The question still lingered in the air. Unanswered. Ans so did the tension.

He was waiting for him to set the pace. For him to cut his strings and be in control of the situation.

The heat built up fast as soon as Jongin experimentally tried to chase for some friction. It wasn’t enough. They were still wearing way too many layers of clothes.

At the same time Jongin wasn’t certain how many they could lose now. What if anyone discovered them like this?

His breath was shaky when he snaked a hand in between them to tease at the edge of the other’s pants. He didn’t let go of his gaze once, innocence shining through as his lips brushed against his again. Only this time, Jongin didn’t not go through with it because of his inexperience, but because he was too concentrated on the task at hand.

He just couldn’t multitask yet as he tried to find a steady and pleasurable rhythm as soon as he slipped his fingers past the man’s underwear. The angle of it all didn’t do him any favors either. Neither did his own arousal, making itself now again every time Kyungsoo arched into his ministrations. Biting his own lips, clearly struggling to keep silent as well.

But it made everything even more exciting.

What would the media write about him if they got caught? ‘ _French model caught mid-act in an RMS Titanic lifeboat’_? Or ‘ _French model caught with low class sailor_ ’? Jongin didn’t even know where Kyungsoo was from. Where he had boarded the ship, to be precise. He couldn’t hear an accent when he spoke.

He took over now. Started to undress him. His hot lips hovering over every bit of skin as soon as he had uncovered it to the cold night-air. Kissing him as if he were a gift. A very expensive, pretty gift. And Jongin liked it, but he also couldn’t focus anymore because of it.

He thought he’d never find something genuine in this world. But they were here now. He didn’t even know the man that well, but he was sure of it. The heat they shared equal to a thousand words and a thousand more unlived minutes.

What had happened that morning and earlier that night was long forgotten.

Kyungsoo’s intense staring had him self-conscious. He suddenly felt the strong urge to hide from it – to cover himself up even though he had already seen more of him than he had initially wanted him to – even when he got rid of his own sweater as well quickly after. He missed the sight of it already, loving the way the black fabric matched his raven hair so neat.

The thing made him look like a manager himself and for a split second it made Jongin sad. It made him imagine an alternate universe where he wouldn’t have to deal with the temperament of Oh Sehun, but with the appreciation of Kyungsoo alone. In another life, he could’ve gotten it all.

He buried his red face in the other’s shoulder as soon as his eyes and hands started wandering. He couldn’t fight himself on this one, it was a reflex. Being looked at was one thing, but being touched while also being admired at the same time… it was overwhelming.

“I find you irresistible,” he set both of his skin and mind ablaze everywhere his fingertips went. He had Jongin hooked from the start with his low voice and the way their faces and eyes were too close to properly see each other while at the same time _all they saw was each other._

“ _Sssh,”_ Jongin tried to coax him into shutting his mouth. Too much to accept. Too much to take in. But he didn’t tell him to _stop_ , for he knew he really would if the world were to fall from his lips at any given time.

“Everything about you is captivating,” he continued, finally slipping a hand behind the waistband of his bright blue pants.

Jongin was _mortified_ at that. He hadn’t been wearing any underwear. Lines showing through his dress pants being one of the fashion industry’s biggest pet peeves. But his lover would’ve found out anyway. There was no avoiding that right now.

He had to cling onto Kyungsoo’s wrist with one hand, his grip firm as if begging him to stop but his facial expression screaming the entire opposite.

He was a complete mess. Beautifully wrecked already. Doing things he shouldn’t and not even thinking about it anymore. It was now more so a question of being _too_ inappropriate.

“Have you done this before, Jongin?”

He wasn’t exactly sure what he meant by it. Had he ever pleasured himself before or was he just a regular virgin? He couldn’t blame him for thinking he had zero experience with his own lower regions. He was reacting embarrassingly desperate, embarrassingly fast to him after all.

“Yes? No?” his voice shrieked high as he tried to look back at him, but it was hard – _quite literally_ – and by now it started to hurt too. He hadn’t thought of it as possible. “Don’t talk?”

Talking only made things worse. They had done so for him his entire life and if they did now, he was certain he would break down from humiliation.

There was no easy way to go about this. The space in between the benches of the lifeboat was narrow for the both of them. Yet they seemed to fit in perfectly, snug between the life vests even, as Jongin rolled himself over on his back again. He reached out to him in a heartbeat as his head threatened to distort the fabric above them, pulling him as close to him as possible.

It played out perfectly, as kissing the little sailor had become his favorite time spent on the godforsaken ship so far. Even enough to make up for all of that, so it seemed.

He was visible shaking from nerves when he thrusted his hips upwards to give him some room to reach for the zipper at the back of his pants all by himself so he could wiggle out of them. He didn’t have much space to work with, with the other man straddling him like he had done so before, and he would most definitely need his help to get them to lose their pants too.

But he liked it. He liked being this close to him that they shared the same air. Even when right now it wasn’t close enough. He hurried to get rid of all the extra fabric in between them that kept them from feeling each other. From feeling him and _only him_.

“Give me a moment,” the man on top of him whispered with a soft laugh as he struggled to pull his remaining underwear off. A bit overwhelmed by the vision of a naked, impatient _Kim Jongin_ splayed out underneath him. The people would soon know as the symbol of sex as soon as his nudity photoshoot got published.

But his sailor would be the only one to ever see everything of him.

“Where do I begin…”

Where had they begun in the first place? Where had their hearts skipped a beat for the first time? Jongin’s quite literally had out there on the deck when they first met, but had it been because of Kyungsoo too?

They both gasped for air. The temperature getting hotter and hotter underneath the protecting cover laying over the lifeboat.

“I’m here.”

All he could plead for right now was for the sailor to just stay silent – even though he had never been so nervous before and his words did in fact help – but he knew his voice would tremble. He just didn’t want to get caught in this position. Really, really did not.

“I’m here.”

 _There was no tomorrow._ Only now. Only here. Only them.

His hand being grabbed again, Jongin’s eyes grew bigger as they followed the movement down in between their bodies. Seeing the sailor completely naked for the first time – even when his shoulders above him were stealing a lot of the dim light – made things more real. Tangible.

He managed to choke out an almost inaudible ‘okay’ when the man on top of him reminded him to relax as soon as he released his hand and settled himself in between his legs. The movement quite forced him into doing so, having to keep his legs open if they wanted to fit into the lifeboat together in the first place.

He decided that living in the moment just wasn’t anything for him as Kyungsoo entered him at an agonizingly slow pace, which seemed to draw the pain out even longer. He focused on the wood of the benches scraping against his knees as his heels pressed into the sailor’s thighs, keeping him from moving back too fast.

It was easier to stay silent with his forehead pressed against the arm that laid flat beside his head, than looking him in the eye with every inch. He was treating him like porcelain. Like he was going to break at any given minute and maybe he would have…

If Kyungsoo didn’t stop.

He let out a shaky breath of relief, enough of a sign to pause for a second yet even that felt excruciating. Everything hurt – even his heart – while his lips picked up the tears threatening to spill from the corners of his eyes.

They stayed still for a moment, bathing in the feeling of being as close together as they possibly could. Kyungsoo looked beautiful like this, his body on top of his and his expression soft. His black hair all over the place from Jongin’s hands already, a strand falling across his forehead which the model couldn’t resist to push out the way. Even if it would fall back down in a minute.

He hissed when they finally started moving, a sign for Kyungsoo to be both gentle and move on with as it sparked the heat growing in his abdomen again.

And suddenly he didn’t know what he liked more: the sailor’s kisses or _this_. The waves of pleasure coming in, crashing on him without warning, almost drowning him. Everything just felt so _good_ , he started meeting his lover’s thrusts halfway instead of just laying passive underneath him.

He had always been quiet, but even he was struggling now. At this rate, he wasn’t going to last long, whispering a heated and hurried “ _Soo_ ” as he tried to warn the man while clinging onto the wood above his head with one hand, the other not parting from his hipbone for one second.

By now the lifeboat was likely betraying their presence already, but they were way too far to notice or care.

They both found their release in almost the exact same way at the same time – the sailor even a little earlier – and he didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry at it. The way they were so perfectly in sync with each other.

Both of them silently riding out their high, he felt a pang of sadness hit him. It was over already. And even when he was still laying on top of him, he missed him already.

Would continue missing him.

Because there was indeed a tomorrow, and a day after tomorrow, and a day after that as well. There would continue to be days until one of them stopped breathing and Jongin felt like that would be tomorrow already, if he couldn’t see the sailor ever again.

This had been the best night of his miserable life, even when it had begun as one of the saddest. But now the sun was rising, and with that reality. Its light chasing away everything good that had ever happened to him.

A distant memory. His time with his sailor would eventually fade to be just that. But even if it did, Jongin should be glad. Should feel content because it had happened to him in the first place. At least he was left with a smile on his face whenever he would think back of their little stolen time on board of the Ship of Dreams.

It wasn’t completely over yet though. They still had a little time of their fantasy world left. A little moment of pretending to fill. And Jongin knew exactly how to do that. He was-

He gasped for air as he felt the familiar grip on his thigh return, immediately pulling his leg away from it. The new angle only putting the blue marks on a better display for the other to see.

Four blue spots… the sailor put a fingertip against each one of them. And then, as if it was meant to be, there was another blue mark just on his hipbone. He lets his thumb rest on it. A perfect fit for a hand.

Eyes full of sorrow.

He hadn’t planned on telling him. Ever. Even when he broke down crying in his arms, he didn’t want him to know. Didn’t need people to feel bad for him. He had been perfectly capable doing that on his own since the moment he got himself into this mess.

He should tell him to stay quiet about it. Blackmail him into keeping his silence. If their little escapade saw the light, it wouldn’t be as bad as the rumors about his manager- He was nothing without him.

He hated the look on Kyungsoo’s face.

He needed to head back. He had already gone way too far by dragging him into his mess.

“It’s fine,” he forced himself to say. It wasn’t fine. Things were far from being fine.

By now the sailor probably realized he had made a big mistake, touching something that had mentally scarred him. But he couldn’t get him even more involved. It was better for the both of them.

He scrambled to get his clothes together again, uncertain what to do about the mess they – he – had made. His suit probably wouldn’t survive – it barely had up until now – but that wasn’t the worst part. The hiding part was the trickiest. And Jongin had no idea how he’d manage to do so, unless he got back to their suites before mister Oh was awake again.

He could only pray he was vast asleep.

“I have to go, Kyungsoo, I’m sorry-“ he whispered. It was sad how much of a _déjà vu_ it was. He had no idea what else to say. He just couldn’t stay.

It had been a mistake. One Jongin only realized when he tried putting the mess back on that was supposed to be his expensive, bright blue suit. Mister Oh would be furious at the sight of it, but even worse: he would have to explain himself. And he had no idea what he would tell him or what he would be able to come up with on the spot, let alone if he would be able to speak without crying.

Because after all of this, he still had to go back to _him_.

“No,” the loud voice startled him. Someone might’ve heard them if he didn’t continue more silent: “I’m not asking you to tell me what happened, Jongin.”

Obviously he had upset the sailor, but things weren’t so simple. He _had_ to understand that.

“I can tell you’re not comfortable and I’m trying my hardest to make you forget, even if it is just for tonight. But you can’t just show up, make me care about you – make me _fall_ for you – and then suddenly leave.”

He tried to avoid his gaze, especially when he heard emotion peeking through in those words. He hated this, people being angry at him. Or when people showed how hurt they were. Jongin didn’t stand a chance at that, often going out of his way to fix things.

“It wasn’t my intention,” he heard himself whisper back in an automatic apology. A setenche he has said over and over again in his lifetime.

“You just… You just don’t do that to people.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

A soon as Kyungsoo scooted back a little, Jongin saw the opportunity to slip back into his own _pantalon_. He did it a bit clumsily because of the shoes he was wearing, and perhaps a little too eager as well. Something he ended up hating himself for, for all the hours that were still to come after.

Maybe he was relieved to finally be able to cover the blue spots up again, feeling as if both of their eyes were glued to it since he had discovered them. As if that was all there was left between them to talk about.

No, he couldn’t cope with it. Didn’t want to be reduced to the things that had happened to him. Even when everything tonight had been more real than something could possibly be. It was better to push him away now.

“Who am I to tell you this,” the sailor mumbled, “just go.”

His heart broke at that – it really did – but he still continued to put his shirt back on, closing the buttons in no time. He just…. Didn’t know what to say.

“I-“ he tried, he _really_ tried to say something else. “Tha- Take care, Kyungsoo.”

And with that he was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear reader, 
> 
> Please keep in mind that there is no specification on what exactly has happened between Jongin and Sehun. Only thing really specified is that it is non-con (and thus rape). 
> 
> I know this smut-scene is really close to that one (only hours between the two). I've really given this a lot of thought though, since I know this is shocking content. The way I see it, Jongin really wants to escape from what has happened to him. Kyungsoo is his safe place. Their little game a welcome distraction. I hope this was clear enough in the chapter? 
> 
> I would love to hear your feedback though. Thank you for reading! 
> 
> READ THIS IS YOU WANT TO KNOW THE TIMEFRAME. (But you know what's about to happen really soon woops...)  
> In case you're wondering why I couldn't postpone the smut: I'm working with a realistic Titanic drama timeframe here.  
> Jongin and Sehun board the Titanic in Cherbourg on the 10th of april 1912.  
> The next day Jongin is overtaken with seasickness, so he doesnt leave his rooms. (11th of april 1912)  
> The day after, Jongin leaves his rooms in the morning but slips on the deck and meets Kyungsoo. (12th of april 1912)  
> The day after that one Jongin has his nudity shoot and the ball, that night Sehun abuses him, ... (13th of april 1912)  
> On the 14th of april 1912, around 11:40 pm, the Titanic hits an iceberg.  
> On the 15th of april 1912, around 2:20 am, the Titanic is gone. Around 4am the RMS Carpathia arrives to pick up survivors.  
> On the 18th of april 1912, the RMS Carpathia arrives in New York with the remaining survivors.


	9. Speechless

He managed to get rid of his ruined suit without coming to stand eye to eye with his manager.

Judging by the look of it, he hadn’t been up to much compared to when he had left their suites. Everything was still looking like the way he had left it in his panicked state. But coming back to their rooms now, that very same feeling came back to him immediately. Crashing over him, crushing him, drowning him.

He hurriedly stripped himself of his blue clothes and dumped them in one of his empty suitcases. He would bring them to the dry cleaning service the ship offered later. For now, it seemed to be the best and most reasonable place to hide a suit in, since all the rest of his clothing they had brought out to wear were neatly hung into the big closet the room offered.

He couldn’t dwell on the fact he had left the sailor like that. He wouldn’t be able to keep up a façade for his manager if he did.

 _It’s fine,_ he had told Kyungsoo. It was. _It truly was._

He hurried to run himself a bath, wanting to clean himself up as soon as possible before his manager woke up. He didn’t really understand why he had such mixed feelings about it though. He needed to get rid of any evidence of their little escapade, and wetting his ruffled hair would be a good first step for that. He wanted to wash away the memory of his manager’s hands on him. And yet at the same time, he couldn’t talk himself into doing the same with the sailor’s smell on his body.

His lips on his neck…

“There you are,” a low voice came from the bathroom door, filled with traces of sleep.

Even when Jongin was sleep deprived and his stomach was rumbling, the sight of Oh Sehun standing there took all of his appetite away. His muscles tensed, concentration high.

He forced himself to smile as he sat up in the bathtub, an arm thrown around his curled up knees. He didn’t move the hand that had been resting on his neck since the minute he got in the warm tub. He knew there was no use in hiding his chest anymore however. He had seen everything yesterday anyway, thanks to that photoshoot. Still, he was grateful for the hot water surrounding him. Swallowing most of him up.

There was something in Oh Sehun’s eyes. Something unreadable like always. But Jongin had become quite good at guessing what he was thinking. So right now, he was guessing he hadn’t blacked out completely from drinking. He guessed he also remembered every single thing that had happened between them last night.

“Glad to find you remember our breakfast plans,” he said before disappearing again, but not without yet another instruction, “wear the pink _ensemble_.”

Nausea hit him. He _had_ forgotten about it.

Some things Jongin would just never understand. How someone’s mood could change so fast, for example, or why wearing someone’s favorite color was so important.

Not that he was complaining about having to wear pink today because of _the_ Kim Junmyeon. Not at all. He had been eying the blush colored vest since the moment mister Oh had packed their luggage back in Paris. He had been so proud about the diamond embroidery on the chest-area of the vest. He had gone hours saying how it was _almost_ one on one custom made for them. It was expensive. And Jongin had always been more than happy to show off pretty, luxurious things.

“Yes,” his manager smiled, eyes content and clearly pleased as he watched him slip it on above the pastel pink button up shirt they had chosen for it, “yes, yes, _yes,_ the man will absolutely _adore_ this.”

The model swallowed nervously. He was glad he had been dressed in a pair of cream, wide legged pants before his manager came to help him again after he himself had gotten dressed.

He really would’ve been a treat to look at in his all white outfit, hadn’t he been the exact opposite of such a pristine color. No, Oh Sehun’s soul was definitely unpolished black.

Luckily for the both of them, both of their pants weren’t see-through. Meaning his own tucked in shirt wasn’t peeking through, and neither were the unwanted blue spots covering his thigh. He was relieved to have them covered in time.

He probably wouldn’t even have commented on them if he had seen it, but he would have _known_. Would’ve seen how quick Jongin was to bruise.

And truth be told, Jongin was embarrassed. He had been embarrassed the entire morning already, finding it even harder to stand face to face with the man now that he was sober.

He really was handsome. He really _was_. He tried convince himself of it. Tried to tell himself it wasn’t that bad of a deal to just make sure to please him, so his unpredictable temper and his extremely high, unfulfillable demands wouldn’t come through.

He would do it. His career would take off in New York and they both would be making so much money that Mister Oh wouldn’t even care about scolding him anymore while he himself would be drowning in so much shoots and gigs, he wouldn’t ever have to spend time alone with him again.

He wouldn’t even have the time to feel lonely, or think of the night that had been the happiest moment of his life.

Hitting his head and forgetting every single thing about his existence seemed to be an easier thing to do than loving Oh Sehun though.

“ _Magnifique.”_

His toes unintentionally curled inside the bejeweled loafers he was wearing. Sadness hit him. He would never be able to wear his favorite type of shoes again. They only reminded him of _him_.

He laughed, playing it off as happiness as he looked into his manager’s appreciating eyes. But in reality he was only able to stand tall because he thought of slipping on the deck again.

Part of him still clung onto the hope of meeting Kyungsoo again tonight. Or catching a glimpse of him out there on the ship today. They were going to have breakfast out on the open deck after all. Maybe he would be working and Jongin could-

There was a sudden knock on the door and Sehun looked ethereal when he left his side with a frown on his face, reaching for his white cane before making his way over to the entry of the suite.

Kim Junmyeon.

They shared politeness. _Fake politeness_ , but Jongin heard none of it. The sight of Doh Kyungsoo trailing behind the man had him frozen.

Here he was then.

He had been so _naïve_. He should’ve known he was going to try to get _something_ from him: money most probably, perhaps another job. Anything in exchange for not ruining his reputation. He should’ve known it would haunt him. His manager had warned him about that.

Suddenly Jongin felt guilty. Bad for being so ungrateful. Bad for not listening to his advice. He had been right all along. So, so _right_.

“Glad to find the both of you still here, gentlemen. Some things should remain _private_ ,” mister Kim started. _The_ mister Kim – the moneyfunder – wanted to discuss things privately? In the presence of a sailor?

Even if he was of some importance in this matter – an importance his manager didn’t seemed to have a clue of as of yet – the powerful men in the room sure as hell wouldn’t treat him that way. They both just gave him a rude not to close the door, instead of a proper instruction, before they slowly made their ways over to the salon in the suite after his manager invited them to take a seat.

He wasn’t sure whether he should or shouldn’t at first, but the dark glance in his manager’s eyes was enough to even convince the poor sailor. So the model hurried to do so as well, nervously making sure to sit down on the same chaise longue as his manager was sitting on and even going as far as sitting closer to him than he normally would’ve.

“It has been brought to my attention that your model could possibly harm my reputation as he’s ruining yours now, mister Oh,” the man sitting opposite of them started, before addressing him directly: “One of my men saw you this morning, _mingling in a lifeboat_ ” – he spat it out like there was dirt in his mouth – “with this _lower than third class_ sailor.”

He didn’t even give the model a chance to defend himself, as he directly spoke to his manager only from then on. “I hereby terminate our contract. Do not seek to contact me again, mister Oh.”

All three of them got up at the same time at that. His manager ready to run after his money like a madman. But before he could even move a foot, Jongin grabbed him by one of his overpriced, white sleeves.

“It isn’t true! Please, _please-_ it isn’t-“ Tears started to well up in his eyes.

There was disappointment on his face again. And anger. And then he was gone.

He was shaking from head to toe, the heels of his loafers ticking annoyingly against the tiles underneath his feet after he dropped himself back on the couch again. He buried his face in his hands for a moment, crying his lungs out before it hit him that he wasn’t alone in the room.

“You- What do you want?! You _lied-_ Tell them you _lied_.” How could he do this to him? “Tell them we didn’t-“

Even his bottom lip was shaking as he did his best to be authoritative about it, fighting against the tears but they just continued falling from his eyes. God, how did mister Oh manage to be like this?

He had nothing to convince him with and neither did Kyungsoo have anything to fear from him. Anyone with a brain and two eyes knew how Jongin wouldn’t even be able to hurt a fly.

“No,” Kyungsoo spat back, “I’m not letting you use me again.”

“I never did!” His voice cracked. To say he was getting desperate now was an understatement.

He could do the same to him now. Could threaten his reputation for money – anything he wanted really. But to say he had only used him to forget his own problems? No, no he hadn’t. He would _never_. Not in a million years.

“And I want nothing from you.”

Jongin found it hard to believe. Maybe all of this time spent with mister Oh had brainwashed him after all. Maybe he was becoming just like him, his mind already racing about ways to fix this. He considered blackmailing the sailor. But only if he had to. But what could he possibly care about?

“You already took everything from me, so…”

Only money would buy his silence.

He didn’t know where he exactly found the strength to get back to him so fast, but he did. Ready to clap back with ‘ _and what about me?’_ but he couldn’t.

The return of his manager cut him off. And Oh Sehun was more than angry. Something Jongin did understand in between all of the chaos right now.

“You! Tell me this is _not true._ How dare you. A lowlife like you – a piece of filth. How dare you lay hands on him.”

Next thing he knew, everything went too fast. His manager’s hands at the sailor’s collar. Kyungsoo not denying _anything_ to save him from losing _everything_.

“Speak! Explain yourself!”

“I have nothing to explain.”

Somewhere in between all that, Jongin found himself up on his legs again. His body shaking as he wobbled his way over to the duo, trying to convince his manager through his tears to _let go of him_ and _figure something out together._

But his manager didn’t hear him through his anger. “You- I want you to go and solve this. Speak to mister Kim.”

“And what?” Kyungsoo daringly said. “Lie to him? No.”

The look on his manager’s face changed – Jongin _saw_ , but he wasn’t quick enough to act to stop him. Next thing he knew, he ruthlessly smacked the end of his cane straight into the sailor’s face.

There was a second of silence – a moment the model couldn’t collect what had happened exactly. A daze. A bad, _bad_ dream.

“ _Sehun_ ,” he cried, but his voice wasn’t loud enough and neither was his strength. He just pulled and pulled and pulled at his blazer and his arms, trying to get him to stop.

He wasn’t the first to give in though. No, Jongin was: “I did, Sehun.”

“ _What?”_ the man hissed when he turned around, the white cane in his hand like always.

He backtracked as soon as he saw a speck of blood staining it. But then, something inside of him snapped. Maybe because he actually felt threatened now that he was stepping closer to him. Or maybe because of the sight of actual _blood_. Blood that could’ve been his own, but instead someone kind and good had taken the hit.

“I _did_ , Sehun. It’s true. Because _I_ wanted it,” there were still tears streaming across his face, but the desperation was gone now. For the first time away from the lens, he was confident.

It seemed to startle the man in front of him too.

“Now find that man that works for mister Kim and blackmail him like you have always done best,” his voice was low in the back of his throat, feeling and sounding unnatural. “And let me take care of him.”


	10. A charming scar

He had been holding his breath the entire time Oh Sehun’s dark gaze rested on him. It lingered in his eyes, stained, would’ve probably scorched through his skull if he hadn’t been the one to look away first.

For a moment he was truly scared. Scared he would pick up that cane again and divert his anger towards him – the one who should’ve gotten the hit in the first place.

But he didn’t. he picked the thing up, slowly stalking towards the door as he straightened his hair and jacked in front of the mirror first. Mumbling a distant, “we’ll talk later.”

“We _will,_ mister Oh,” he replied back, face firm while he hadn’t moved an inch on his spot on the carpet floor.

And then he was gone, taking all upsetting emotions like terror and despair with him.

He was still focused on where the door had closed behind the man – a wave of relief crashing over him – when he heard a small voice behind him: “I- I need to sit down.”

Before Jongin managed to get ahold of him, the sailor had made it to the closest chair already. Right on time too, it seemed. He had never seen anyone so pale in his life before because of- That’s when he realized, Kyungsoo couldn’t handle the sight of blood.

And he was panicking because of it, his voice shaking when he started with an almost inaudibly soft “thank you.”

He was playing with his heart, really. Grabbing it in his tight fist and clenching it until Jongin couldn’t breathe anymore. He hadn’t even given him anything to be thankful for. On the contrary…

“I’m happy to hear you actually wanted it.”

It was actually easy to keep a straight face as he crouched down in front of him. The wound on his forehead gave him the perfect excuse to not look at him.

“Don’t say something like that,” he muttered back, more silent again and closer to his regular self even when the adrenaline was still rushing through his veins. He knew what it was like to not want something and that… that hadn’t been even close to it. He didn’t even regret it. At least, not yet.

“I should probably go.”

“No.”

Looking back up at him from his knees, he was still conflicted. Upset that he wouldn’t just lie for him. Instead, it had to escalate to _this_. But staring back into those eyes again, now seeing them full of tears… He instantly forgot it all.

“Don’t move, okay?” he softly answered him taking his hand before rubbing his thumb along his fingers for a short moment. He was scared what impact the cane would turn out to have. Maybe a concussion. He wouldn’t be surprised if Sehun had hit him that hard.

But Kyungsoo’s eyes appeared to be normal, besides how sad and utterly broken they were looking back at him now.

Still, the thought of what Sehun had done to him… what he could’ve done to him if Kyungsoo hadn’t been the unlucky victim to replace him. It had him so frightened, he immediately got up to lock the door of the suites in case he would come back early.

He quickly kicked off his shoes after that, walking straight across the suite to his manager’s room, where he knew Sehun kept his drinks fresh with ice. It was where the man had went to fetch ice for his sore ankle as well. In some way, Jongin was happy about having discovered that early on.

He came back with plenty, wrapped in the closest piece of fabric he was able to find: a silk scarf used to wear as an accessory around the neck or tucked into the breast-pocket of a blazer.

“I told him I’d take care of you, right?” he mumbled after the sailor got used to the initial cold of the ice pressed against his forehead.

He closed his eyes for a second as soon as they were settled: the model holding the pack against his split eyebrow as he pressed the side of his face – the unharmed, bloodless side – against his stomach. He may have almost ruined his expensive outfit again doing so, but who would even care at that point?

“This, _Soo_. I tried to lie because of this.”

Because the sailor didn’t know, but he _did_. And he had tried to warn him, but it hadn’t been good enough.

“Yesterday he-, I-“ He wasn’t able to go on with that sentence. He couldn’t form the words. Didn’t want to put it into words. “I can’t _run_. I _need_ him.”

It was true. He really did.

Unconsciously he started holding on to the petite man leaning against him a bit closer, his fingers lovingly snaking their way through the thick black strands of hair covering his head.

As if holding him close would make it clear to the sailor that he also needed him just as much, but in a different way.

“Need him,” he echoed, sounding like he still had an absent mind and Jongin couldn’t blame him. If his head allowed him – if his brain really protected him like that one other, black night – then he would’ve been far away from all this as well.

“Why can’t you find someone else? Someone who takes good care of you?”

He just laughed silently, even when the smaller added that he was _too good for him_. Maybe he was, maybe he wasn’t. at least he himself thought he wasn’t. He was just as bad as him now, turning to blackmailing people now that everything seemed to go to hell.

“How do you know he doesn’t take good care of me, Kyungsoo?” he replied back, voice calm and flat even when talking about him made him sad, almost to the point of wanting to curl himself up in a corner somewhere and cry. But no, he had some explaining to do. He owed that to him. “Everything I have, it’s his.”

It was like that, it really was _everything_.

But he knew what he would reply back to him. The poor sailor probably didn’t own much of himself either. He’d tell him that he could just work for it. That one didn’t need much to survive in this world.

It was a beautiful thing – it was true – but he couldn’t live such a life. It wasn’t what he wanted in a lifetime. He had goals and dreams, and by now he had put in far too much work to give it all up like this.

He let out a sad sigh – something hovering close to self-pity – as he took a step aside to grab ahold of the back of the chair the sailor was sitting on. It wasn’t too difficult to turn it around to face the mirror with him on it. He was pretty light, which he had already discovered in the lifeboat as well, and not too resistant now that he still looked pale enough to faint at any given moment.

“I look terrible,” he chuckled, clearly the type to laugh at himself and his own misery.

Jongin wasn’t someone like that. He never had been able to cope with heavy things. He kept things bottled up until they ate their way out from the inside.

“As do I, so what’s the difference?” He gave him a moment to take a better look at himself before he pressed the ice back against his forehead, standing next to him like before but only now his free hand was resting on the back of the chair.

He carelessly used one of his naked feet to push his legs open and press down on one of his knees, so that one of his legs was spread out more than the other. It elongated the tiny man’s frame on the chair, now that he was leaning back on it slightly.

Jongin looked at him for a second, foot resting on one of the bars in the wooden framework of the chair Kyungsoo was sitting on. “Again, what’s the difference? You could model just as good as me.”

And then he let go of his eyes in the mirror to stare at himself for a second. “If you meet the right people.”

He thought he had, in the form of Oh Sehun.

How did he ever end up like _this_? When did he ever let it get so far?

Some things just went so fast. His climb to success for example, or the few moments of happiness he had known on this godforsaken ship.

He owed Oh Sehun a lot, that was for sure. Even if the sailor next to him wasn’t quite able to completely wrap his brain around that right now.

“That’s not true,” Kyungsoo answered him promptly. Some things were just the way they were and they would always stay that way. The smaller man still didn’t believe him. Who in their right minds listened to a model anyway?

He allowed him to take the ice from his hand. His fingers had turned bright red from holding onto it for so long. The abrupt warmth of the sailor’s hand against is almost made him want to pull his hand way, but he couldn’t deny that he had missed it. Even if they had only been apart for a couple of hours. It was ridiculous.

“You have a talent for this Jongin. It’s not just a matter of meeting the right people,” he refused to let go of his eyes as he added: “Although I wonder how right he is for you…”

He didn’t answer the little man. And even when he turned his head away to look at his wound in the mirror, all he did was stare at his face.

He wanted to say it wasn’t true. That it was more than talent. More than just being good-looking. It was about money. Money Oh Sehun had and they didn’t. Money he used to buy him everything with, not only funded his career with.

They both knew he wasn’t _right_. But he was someone.

“But of course, I don’t know the relationship between you two and how he treats you normally…”

“Like a princess,” he mumbled back cynical – it sounded odd in his mouth – giving himself a quick glance in the mirror.

His _Cinderella_. Locked up inside, until he swept the prince of his feet and suddenly meant something to him.

“I really have to go to the infirmary,” the sailor stated, pushing himself from the chair as Jongin took another look at his wound. It really was deep. They would probably have to stich him up, and judging by the way he was handling the sight of blood now… Well…

“I’m sorry for ruining your clothes,” he muttered when looking down at his chest.

He was quick to realize he was blocking him from moving.

He really wanted to tell him it was nothing, that he could just toss the satin thing over the railing straight into the ocean and get rid of all things that could piss of Oh Sehun. But he didn’t.

He should be the one to apologize, really. But it seemed that every time he tried, the sailor or someone else just did something that came in between that.

In some way Kyungsoo wobbling so pale-looking on his feet was quite a funny sight. Especially when he caught onto him right in time to sit him down on the chair again.

“How about I’ll go and find a nurse instead?” he gave him a small smile. “Unless you insist me carrying you to the infirmary.”

“Could you find me a nurse, please?” Kyungsoo just about managed to gave him a weak smile.

As he left him inside the room – locking the door behind him just in case his manager managed to return to the room before he got back – all he could think about was how much he really was at fault.

Which was… a lot, really. Maybe Sehun would decide to drop him as well after all of this, even if he owed his growing fortune to him. But he couldn’t dwell on that for too long now. At least, not yet. He would do so later, alone, when he knew for a fact that the sailor would do fine.

Right now, he had to find a nurse willing to come back to his room with him. For some reason, he was now glad about the specks of blood that had ruined his blush colored vest. At least they were a witness to people that someone was indeed in need of some stiches, and that he wasn’t going to the nurse for some embarrassing problem.

The first nurse he encountered was on the rather talkative side. He quickly found out when they crossed the ship back to his rooms together – everything going its usual way in the luxurious halls – as she just went on and on, firing question after question.

She had taken the one-voyage-job on the Titanic in exchange for the trip to America, where she would meet up with her fiancé again. She was excited to marry him and live there – Europe was getting tense after all nowadays – and the model loved that for her. She was on the rather chubby side, which made his mind wander to thanksgiving and how much he was looking forward to all American things as well.

Still, her upcoming marriage didn’t seem to keep her from letting her eyes wander over to him more than once. He had noticed it in the elevator already and now noticed it again upon hearing her high-pitched laughter.

Thank god they were quick to be back to his suites again. Soon after the model had opened the door and let her walk ahead of him, she placed the white nurse-bag down. “So, how did this happen?”

The sailor had moved himself to sit on one of the chaise longue in the meantime, looking like he was caught in the middle of something he shouldn’t be doing when they came in.

Jongin was surprised to see the nurse only staring back at him. He quickly shot Kyungsoo a glance over her right shoulder. Shouldn’t he be the one answering her?

No, they were in his rooms. And he… was the richest person around. “He…” How did he end up with needing eight stiches right above his brow? “He came to fix the light.” _Yes, the light, Jongin, with no ladder in sight._ “You sure you just lost your balance?” He asked the sailor again, giving him an apologetic smile after coming up with the dumb lie.

Kyungsoo simply nodded.

“Dangerous salon tables…”

“ _Very_ dangerous,” the other man backed him up.

She seemed to believe the story. Maybe she only wanted to believe _him_. It didn’t matter. He was glad to find her taking a look at the gaping wound staring back at the both of them.

“Some stiches coming right up indeed,” she kindly smiled, “don’t worry sir, it will be a charming scar.”

He hadn’t even thought about that yet. “Shouldn’t he lay down for this then?”

“Jongin,” the man whispered as soon as he hit the soft cushions, staring at the detailed ceiling while the nurse was rummaging through her bag in the corner of their eyes. “Can I-“ he swallowed, looking at him with pleading eyes, “can I hold your hand?”

He didn’t even have to finish his sentence.

And just like that, the blond nurse got to work. It was nice to see the sailor’s handsome face reappear from underneath all of the dried blood. It was even clearer how pale he had gotten now, but at least he didn’t get slapped in the face every time he looked at him now.

Although the three stiches in his forehead and the thereafter sure to be left scar would always confront him with what had happened today. All because of his mistakes.

In the end it was him who had made his manager angry. It was him who had decided to get involved with the sailor. It was him who had allowed him to catch him, time and time again.

He was so lost in thought, he didn’t even notice the pair of eyes that kept travelling between his face and the work they were supposed to focus on. Didn’t feel how Kyungsoo was cutting off the bloodflow in his hand by how hard he was squeezing it.

Three stiches, successfully making his heart clench every time he did but look at them.

Yet at the same time, the thousand expressions crossing the sailor’s normally so intimidating flat expression in mere seconds made him laugh.

All of the tension in the room lifted as soon as the nurse declared that she was done.

He had to fight a smile as he looked over her shoulder. Only three. Barely noticeable, right? A bit of cleaning every day and it would heal fine. He wanted to ask her when a doctor would have to remove the stiches again, but she was already moving towards the door. And for some reason, he didn’t have the balls to stop her so he could ask.

She was gone before he could properly see her out, closing the door behind her before he could thank her as well. As if she suddenly was in a hurry. Odd..

“So, care to explain this?”


	11. Mine

When Jongin turned around again to face the sailor, still sitting down on the couch, he wasn’t expecting him to be waving something at him. But he recognized the picture in an instant. Or better said, the person on the picture.

The damned staircase shoot instead of the piano…

“Of course you like _that one_ ,” he could sink through the ground from sudden embarrassment. Cheeks aflame, he wanted to ask him where he had gotten it, but he knew it already. His manager had stuffed the drawer full of lose pictures when they moved into the suites. Why he had done that, he didn’t really understand nor did he care for it either.

“I don’t like that one. You can keep it if you want, though,” he smiled back at him as he slowly made his way to the couch again. He purposely pushed his thigh against his after he sat down, “I’m sure you’ll get better use out of than that drawer.”

He tried to brush it off, but he still felt like he could sink through the floor from embarrassment. Especially when Kyungsoo pulled his arm back to take an even better look at the picture. Although he must’ve looked at it thoroughly already the moment he found it.

He still didn’t understand how other models kept their model personality and themselves apart. To him, _Jongin_ and French model _Kim Jongin_ were one and the same. But he would try in New York. He would try with _Kim Kai_. That is, if after all of this mess he still had a career to continue building.

The sailor didn’t have to get offered the thing he had twice. Immediately slipping it inside of his pants-pocket. Either he must’ve really liked the picture to be so eager about it, or the shot must’ve had more charm than he thought.

“I can think of a good use,” he smiled timidly, going along with the model’s little joke.

They looked at each other. A moment feeling like it had no end. He could get lost in his dark eyes. And he was sure he would’ve, hadn’t he been so damn shy he had to look away from him.

He couldn’t follow the smaller man’s thoughts as he suddenly spread out a leg behind him, basically throwing himself on the couch in front of him. “I think I need a little distraction from the pain.”

The gesture towards his head wound wasn’t even needed. The stiches staring at him yet again firing up his guilt.

“Do you think you can help me with that?”

He was blushing bright red again. The way he was being looked at and talked to making him want to hide his face in his sleeves. But Kyungsoo wouldn’t have any of it, pulling him close and kissing him before he could do it.

He lifted one of his hands intending to push him away, but instead he grabbed a fist full of fabric to keep them both upright so he could kiss him properly.

He hadn’t locked to door. It really was a stupid idea. But he couldn’t fight himself any longer. Especially when he pulled back, gasping for air as he caught on to the other’s bright red lips. His must’ve looked the exact same.

It was the one thing he had craved to do from the minute he had stepped back into his field of vision. Touch him. Kiss him. Confess to him.

A disheveled Kyungsoo. He was beautiful. If he could’ve captured anything himself – any moment, any place, any person – it would’ve been the exact second before he pushed the sailor into the soft cushions of the red couch.

He was the one wearing the most expensive things, still it was nothing compared to the way his love reacted to his hands and his kisses. Every moan he’d managed to get out him could be considered priceless. He made it his sole mission to earn as many as he possible could. His personal way of saying sorry to him.

Yet he couldn’t stop himself from mumbling the word ever so often against his skin, as he carefully pecked around his forehead and gently made his way down to the sensitive skin of his neck.

“Stop saying you’re sorry,” the sailor’s voice sounded distant in his ears. He had only heard it because his name rolling from his lips had caught his attention.

He couldn’t stop. It had become a mantra to him in those short seconds. Something he had to repeat to himself over and over again, add on to every kiss and caress against the warm skin. He had ruined part of it, creating a scar. Something more to the little sailor now. Another part he was determined to love more and more.

Even if Kyungsoo didn’t have a problem with it at all, a scar was still a scar. And Jongin knew those never healed. They wouldn’t fade and time wouldn’t sweep in like a hero to heal everything.

“I just need you to _know_ ,” he replied, words pushed to the back of his throat from lust and maybe impatience as well.

He was at the bottom of his throat now, reaching his collarbone where he realized just how easy it would’ve been for him to devour him. Eat away at him until there was nothing left for the sailor to give to anyone else. Growing selfish, because Jongin wanted to be.

He really lost himself in him, especially in his arms. He didn’t know what got into him, but with Kyungsoo everything seemed to be forgettable. As if there wasn’t an entire world against him waiting outside of that door.

“Jongin-“

His heart skipped a beat as he heard a hand on the doorknob, the ringing sound alarming him before the wooden door to the suite gave in. He was quick to react – much quicker than usual now that his senses were heightened. He pulled the blush colored vest over his head in one swift motion, as if he had planned it all along, casually throwing it over his lap to cover up the situation in his pants as he pushed himself to sit up straight again.

He heard the noise of the cane hitting the ground before he even turned his head to face the damned man again. The look on his face was enough to tell which mood he was in: anything but pleased at the sight he walked in on. To be more specific: the fact that the man who’s face he almost destroyed was still there, laying down on his very couch.

“The nurse just left,” Jongin coughed, uncomfortable underneath the dirty look he got. Probably because of his red mouth. He tried to come up with a reason for it looking that way by leaning his chin against his hand, but he knew his manager would be able to put two and two together. He never sat like that. Taught to never touch his face.

Why did he even bother? He had basically admitted to it already. Still, it was completely different now that he walked in on him and god- no, the room had been too hot already.

“He needed stiches,” he added as he saw him raise a questioned brow at him.

“Not paying for it,” mister Oh hissed at that. His only reply. And it didn’t go unnoticed to the model. Eve when he was still furious and the unkind man he despised, his reaction was lacking compared to how he usually went off.

“We won’t.” He decided not to tell him how the nurse hadn’t even mentioned any payment. “He merely slipped as he came to fix the light. Just an _accident_ ,” he looked at his manager with pleading eyes before he averted his attention back to Kyungsoo.

He wanted to continue this. Whatever it was they had.

But they couldn’t. Anyone in their right mind knew it was best to cut things of right here. Before any of them got hurt in a much more serious way.

“Is the anesthesia gone already?”

“I think so,” the sailor caught onto the hint almost immediately, much to the model’s relief.

He almost wanted to add something extra about him keeping his mouth shut. A subtle plea to go along with their lying and silence anyway. But he didn’t. He now knew well enough that Kyungsoo was a man of morals. He’d rather take a hit than covering up the truth.

And it was a shame. Really a shame, because he was good in acting. He faked concern for his wound, as if he had really gotten an injection to numb him, before he got up.

For a second Jongin was concerned that he would show too much, revealing what they secretly had been up to before his manager burst into the room again. But it was gone – already – even when he still recognized traces of lust in his eyes. Maybe it was only noticeable to Jongin.

He envied him then and there. Because the sailor could take his leave now, could stand and go where he pleased and run away from the monster Jongin was so keen on fleeing from himself.

And now he would be left alone with that man again.

“Thank you for your help, mister Kim,” he said near the door, and it almost made Jongin laugh out of misery. Of course he only wanted to thank him, but the fact he hadn’t even addressed his manager a single time…

There was a silence after the sailor left the room. He knew – he _knew_ – it was only temporary. Mister Oh just wanted to make sure he was out of hearing distance. It was best like that.

He flinched at the sudden sound of the cane hitting the floor harshly after his manager threw it away in anger. “Are you out of your _goddamned_ mind?!”

 _No_ , Jongin thought, but he wished he was as he tried to sink deeper and deeper into the red cushions of the couch he was sitting on, vest still awkwardly draped over his lap. Not to mention the thing was ruined with blood. Even if it were only mere specks, they would stain the fabric forever.

“I- _I_ go out to fix our reputation and here you are- Just take a look at yourself!”

He knew he shouldn’t do it as it would only provoke the man even more, but his head snapped to the side when he mentioned it. The mirror showed exactly what he already knew it would: attacked lips, disheveled clothes and messy hair. But most of all, a guilty man.

“You look like a whore. Guess you became one too, in a fucking lifeboat nonetheless.”

There it was again. It always came down to the same thing: coins. Contrary to his manager, Jongin never asked for anything in return. But he guessed the man would never understand a concept like free will or love. If one could call it love, besides desire.

“Money,” he snapped as he looked up at him, not daring to stand up from the couch just yet, “it’s always about money.”

“Well, do you expect me to care for anything else than making a living for us?”

“What if I had him pay, _huh_ , would it have made any difference?” Maybe it was wrong for him to say that. Maybe it would give him some real ideas. “Of course it would. You’d whore me out yourself-“

“I would not!” His manager stalked through the room. He stopped himself every time he came near him though, walking the other way and keeping the distance of at least the salon table between them. He was visibly fighting to remain ‘calm’, although it was safer to say he tried to refrain from getting ever angrier.

“ _Nudity-_ You know I never wanted to do it.”

“You _agreed_ , Jongin. You’re mine to manage by contract. I managed you in Paris, I’m managing you know. And you’re ungrateful.”

Sick in the head, the model thought, he’s living in his own fantasy. He had only agrees after he had already told mister Kim yes.

“You think that gives you the right to hit someone in the head with that stupid cane?” He couldn’t believe his ears. Finally, he pushed himself off the couch. He heard enough. He needed a moment away from this man.

Of course mister Oh called back to him. Of course he was trying to threaten him into staying. Jongin just ignored him. He couldn’t for the life of him convince himself to turn around, sit down again and listen to him like an obedient dog.

No, he would pack his bags inside his locked room and get away from this devil as soon as the ship docked at the other side of the world.


	12. Paris

Somewhere near the evening he was done sitting in his room, laying on his mattress as he was trying to figure out his options to get out of the mess he had created.

He loved modelling. Couldn’t think of doing anything else with his life or in the big apple. But his stomach turned at the thought of staying with his manager, trying to fix things with him and that mister Kim.

Wasn’t he the one the cameras adored in Paris, though? Wasn’t his face enough? Was money really that important? Maybe he could manage himself. Or find someone new to do so.

He grabbed his coat at that, not even caring to look if his manager was still around in their rooms as he slipped out of their suites. His suitcase was packed already. Ready to take off whenever he wanted. Whenever he could.

He could head back to Paris. He already had a name over there. Wouldn’t need that monster to help him there.

It would mean the entire voyage turned out to be for nothing. Unless he decided to not return empty handed…

It was a romantic idea. Brilliant, he even thought as he crossed the inside of the ship to find the little man in his rooms. But the knock on his door remained unanswered, even when he called out to him and tried the doorknob.

He wondered for a moment if he had perhaps been mistaken. Maybe he had taken the wrong hallway. They all looked so much alike in the light of day. But no, this was where he had taken the long route not leading to his chambers. The route that lead to the maids quarters and the big room with the piano that laid behind it.

He walked through all of the common rooms that laid unused behind that. The ship really was too big, even for this many people on board. It was ridiculous. No one needed this much space. It was even crazier how the sea could carry such a big thing.

The fresh air hit him in the face as soon as he stepped outside, cold wind biting at his nose as he crossed the deck searching for a familiar face. Even pulling his coat tighter around his shoulders wasn’t helping anything. The sinking sun was a real traitor as well, leaving all of the people out on the deck to freeze where they stood.

She was still there though. People standing near the railing to bask in the last rays of sunlight. Among them the sailor he had been looking for. He recognized him in a heartbeat.

Faster than his ridiculous shoes wanted to carry him, he ran his way over to him.

“Paris,” he panted out of breath as he finally came to a halt next to him, basically falling against the railing as he clutched onto it with both hands. “Have you ever been to Paris? With me? I mean- do you want to go to Paris with me?”

It was strange. All Jongin felt now was excitement, while he should be afraid. He should be terrified at the thought of throwing all of his ambition away on the _ship of dreams_ above all. But he wasn’t, because the sight of the sailor in front of him kept him grounded. Even when it looked like the exact opposite was happening to him right now.

Paris. It would be nicer together. He liked the city, loved the cozy cold and tea, but it would be nicer to roam the city with someone friendlier by his side.

“No, I haven’t.”

He would show him everything. Kiss him at _La Seine_ , how cliché it was.

He could imagine it already, looking at him like a child in a candy shop. Imagining he could have all of it, with shimmering eyes. Kyungsoo was much sweeter than candy.

“Going to Paris? With you? Are you sure?” he asked. He was actually the one looking the most uncertain about all of it. Leaning next to him against the railing, arms brushing together as Jongin nodded his head in reply. Kyungsoo wouldn’t have it as an answer, “you are travelling all this way, only to turn back again? You shouldn’t throw away your chances, Jongin. I’m sure you’ll do great in New York.”

The sailor stared at the last few orange rays of the sun. It was almost gone completely.

He wasn’t throwing away anything though. He was trying to play it safe. That was a better thing, right?

The sailor seemed to have a thing for reading him. “I would love to go to Paris with you, I really do. But I don’t want you to regret your decisions later because of a… difficult situation right now.”

To put it as a difficulty – an obstacle he just had to jump over – was too soft. It was worse. But however bad it was, he had made his decision.

He followed the smaller man inside, walking through some glass doors and through some big and cozy looking salons before they arrived at the over the top designed staircases at the center of the ship.

It was still a long way down to the sailors quarters, and Jongin would’ve gladly went with him if he didn’t have a plan and if he wasn’t doubting whether Kyungsoo was taking him serious right now.

He stopped him in his tracks, urging him to stand still as he stood on one of the steps below him so the other was now towering over him.

“Where are you going after all of this then? You never told me,” he smiled, eyes big and curious and begging.

“Going? Me?” Kyungsoo let out a breathless laugh.

“Let’s go somewhere together. Run away with me. My suitcase is packed and ready to leave. Now-“ he spoke faster and more excited than his tongue and brain could keep up. “Say we’re in that lifeboat again, where would you take me?”

He didn’t realize the words had yet a double meaning again, especially considering their history with lifeboats. But it was there thing. Lifeboats and Jongin blushing furiously.

He grabbed ahold of his hand again, basically dragging him right behind him as he continued their way down into the belly of the ship. Laughing like a little kid as he started imagining all sorts of things. All sorts of parts of a different life. “Kyungsoo, I think you’d drive a Renault.”

Of course he wouldn’t drive a Renault. Not even Jongin had earned enough money to drive one back in the streets of Paris. Let alone to be driven around all the time. But in his running imagination they owned one. Burgundy. Shiny.

“I would love to be your personal driver,” the smaller man behind him added in and it made him giggle like a little child. Yes, he would very much like it. Although he was kind of skeptical about Kyungsoo being a good driver or wanting to drive him to everything all of the time.

Right now he was good at driving him absolutely crazy though. His mind was running wild with all sorts of thoughts and situations. Kyungsoo wearing a high top hat behind the steering wheel would be quite the sight. Or letting his hair grow longer, Jongin would very much love that as well.

“I wouldn’t even care where we would be going!”

Soon they were back to the small corridors with the little blue, black and white tiling and the pipes running along the ceiling. Jongin loved it now. Put it on the same _pied de stalle_ as absolute freedom.

And there it was again. The little room with the little, metal framed bunk bed where the two of them had barely managed to squeeze into last night. He wondered what they would do this time around. Kyungsoo had wanted to show him the stars on the deck yesterday…

He turned around to ask him about it and all the other things he wanted to do before things took a different turn. He couldn’t help to smile back at him, excited beyond his heart-

“About my plans, New York,” Kyungsoo said as he was sitting on the corner of the table with crossed arms. All lively expressions had left his face, just as much as the conversation took a sudden turn. “I hadn’t really planned anything out. Just like my life has always been. It’s just living on cheap food, a bit of luck and a handful of jobs here and there. I was just hoping New York would offer me a bit more. I just wanted a different setting.”

Well, hadn’t they been thinking the same thing then? New York, a place filled with hopes for a brighter future with more chances.

“I don’t want my life to be boring. I don’t have many qualities, so I will never be as successful as… well, you, for example. But I don’t want to do the same back-killing job for fifty years before passing away unhappily.”

Jongin was quite astonished because of the sudden confession. Here he was, thinking Kyungsoo was the one who had it together. The one who has been a trained and working sailor for years. Somehow somewhere along the way he had just assumed that the third class people always had a clear goal and vision in mind. A reason why they did what they were doing. Why they were heading the way they were.

Like the nurse who was going to reunite with her fiancé, for example. Surely, Kyungsoo must’ve had some connections to convince him into taking the trip?”

“I’m sorry. You sounded so happy just moments before – I didn’t want to make you feel bad.”

He almost wanted to chime in that it was alright – really. He was used to people being out for his happiness anyway.

He just stood there, mouth hanging open like a fool as he didn’t know what to say.

“The thought of Paris… The thought of you really sounds amazing… But isn’t it exactly that? Too amazing to be true?”

Maybe. Maybe it was. Maybe he wasn’t as grounded as he thought he was. And now Kyungsoo was here, subtly telling him he shouldn’t be so stupid to throw away all of his dreams like this. New York was out there for a reason. Kyungsoo wasn’t rich enough to take all of the chances she offered, but Jongin was. If he wouldn’t be running in front of his mind at least.

“Jongin, I- I think I love you.”

He had been standing completely still before, but his muscles tensed even more at the sudden outburst. Was the hit on his head harder than they thought? Or did he really mean it?

There was a moment of silence as Jongin’s mind went blank, his ability to fathom words completely lost. He wasn’t a man of speech to begin with anyway, but right know he didn’t even have an idea of what to answer him.

 _Love_. It was too much to take in. But right then and there, it didn’t seem to hit him just yet. It would though. Later.

“But- But you don’t even know my age. Or my birthday. Or where _Nini_ came from… and you didn’t even show me _everything_ yet,” he added with a timid smile, eyes glued to his feet as he played with his nails. “January fourteen, by the way… My birthday,” he added, looking up as he curiously waited for his own answers to share with him.

“January twelfth,” the other’s smile was suddenly radiant, “I’m twenty-six.”

He couldn’t believe his ears. He looked way younger, although his gut feeling had indeed suspected him to be older than him.

“I’m twenty-five.” And he was nervous suddenly. Because even though the age-gap between them was only one year, he still felt like the sailor has seen more of the real world than he had in his entire life.

“I’m glad you haven’t disappeared from my room yet, after… after those words.”

How could he possibly go running right now? Kyungsoo was all he had left. All he was really certain of. And maybe- Well, maybe he loved him too…

He took a step forward, features softening as he closed the distance between them so he could wrap his arms around him. He made himself small in his arms, burying his face in the crook of the shorter man’s neck. “I could never,” he mumbled softly against his skin.

“Love me?”

“Leave this room.”

He didn’t have to look up anymore to know that he was smiling. So they just stood there. Inhaling and exhaling each other’s scent, breathing in sync with the waves engulfing the ship.

“Well I’m afraid we have to,” the sailor said, which caused the other to look up in confusion. “We have to get your bags. And there’s something I want to do with you tonight.”

They were still a three day voyage removed from their destination, but they would make it work. Jongin would crawl his way out of the claws of his manager. And Kyungsoo… Kyungsoo would show him _everything_.


	13. Unsinkable

He gladly let himself get dragged along by the hand. The room was too small after all. The air still slightly tense from the confession Jongin hadn’t quite taken in yet.

He recognized the route they were taking again. The one he had walked only half an hour ago when he was searching for him. Soon they arrived at the piano room again. Only this time the sunlight was gone.

He couldn’t fight back a giggle as the sailor kicked his shoes off to feel the carpet. For a moment he very much thought of doing the same. But then he remembered losing his shoe while running away from his manager… and suddenly, he didn’t feel like it anymore.

The thought of his manager would always remain a looming shadow, even if he managed to run away with Kyungsoo.

“I don’t know why,” the sailor’s voice brought him back to reality, “but this room holds a certain feeling for me. It might be because no one ever comes here… or it’s just the way the moon and the sun always shine through the round windows which makes it look so otherworldly.”

He didn’t say anything as he followed his gaze towards the round windows. Even though he didn’t have anything specific with music – he couldn’t play any instruments – he could still follow his reasoning.

“I want to try something,” his voice came again and to be honest, he could try anything he wanted as long as they got to spend time together. Away from all responsibilities. Grabbing him at both of his wrists, he sat him down with such gentle care he could almost melt in his touch again.

He felt quite embarrassed underneath his straight up staring. He unconsciously made himself smaller on the bench by hiding his hands between his knees and hunching his shoulders. Why did people like pianos so much?

“You are _otherworldly,_ ” he then said before he pushed his chin up with one finger, forcing him to look him in the eyes as he said it before he kissed him again.

His eyes fluttered shut immediately. It was his favorite thing in the world, really. He was his favorite thing. The way he was spoiling him with saying such sweet things too. His giggles broke their kisses, “stop saying such things.”

He was feeling giddy as he buried his face in the fabric of his sweater, much preferring to not look him in the eyes while he said such sappy things. But then his smell hit him all over again the way it had the first time. Plain, nothing too fancy like cologne or _eau de toilette_ which Jongin had used too many bottles of in his life.

He was way too easy to breathe in, yet Jongin felt like he couldn’t fill his lungs enough with him.

He never wanted him to leave.

The model sighed as he held onto him. Arms draped around his torso, the side of his face resting against him as he enjoyed the moment: eyes closed, listening to the both of them just being alive and together that very year, month, week, day, hour, minute, second. He could sit like that forever, if time allowed it.

But unfortunately it didn’t. The ship would dock New York soon and then they would have to leave this place forever. The beautiful ship of dreams he had come to hate and love at the same time.

“Play something for me?” he looked up at him expectantly.

“Play?” he sounded so reluctant, Jongin thought he wouldn’t do it. But then he motioned for him to scoot over a little to the side so he could sit in front of the piano as well and… “I don’t know a lot of songs. I have learned a few songs when I was drunk.”

The memories clearly made him laugh, making Jongin wonder what it must’ve felt like. To be fully hammered and free in the world without any care. All Jongin had experienced was getting tipsy on champagne over fancy parties and corresponding dinners. He had blacked out only once – after one of those previously mentioned champagne-filled nights, but somewhere he had missed out on all the fun of being drunk that night.

He filled the room up with a few doubtful notes. But soon his fingers seemed to remember a simple, yet elegant combination of sounds. A tad too beautiful to be drunkenly played in bars, truly. But it was beautiful enough for him.

He could call him all things in the dictionary – Jongin would believe every single one of them to be true if they came out of Kyungsoo’s mouth. If it was but him calling him _stunning_ or _otherworldly._ He could even make up new ones, if he had to. Jongin would never know. He would never think twice about things when he was too occupied with being with him and being his.

His to hold. His to love. His to cherish. His to play a song for in this moment.

It was simple. But Jongin had come to love simple things on board of that ship. The poor sailor had stripped him bare from all excessive things like luxury and he loved it. Much preferred it this way. Stripped to just his naked self, he was a model to the core. He only needed himself to be himself. And Kyungsoo had shown him that.

With every note he carried him into another world. A life he couldn’t live, he had called it, but with every new note the little sailor’s fingers hit he could imagine it more and more. A simple life. A simple apartment where he’d fall asleep like this, eyes closed with his head on his shoulders as he absently listened to his voice talking about how his work had been that day. He’d fall asleep during the conversations because of how exhausted the camera flashes had made him, but the ex-sailor wouldn’t mind at all. Instead, he’d throw a blanket on top of them and would even sleep uncomfortable on the couch with him.

It would be a simple thing called love. Equal to the simple – filled with love – souls they were right then.

“Weird how I still remember how to play. It’s been years.”

Some things were very weird indeed. Like the way he had come to love the man sitting next to him more than himself in a mere time period of three days. It had been years since he had loved something the same way: a little teddy bear that was now patiently waiting in his suitcase for their grand escape. His little fury arm stitched on five time already during days where little boys still thought of becoming doctors or firemen. He was never that heroic though.

“Maybe I can teach you?” Suddenly his voice was next to his ear.

Honestly, Jongin hadn’t heard the words that came before that. And the man sitting next to him – their legs on opposite sides of the piano bench – must’ve been able to tell how distracted he was from the look in his eyes alone, for he quickly suggested: “but maybe there’s another time and another place for that.”

They gave each other a knowing smile for a second before leaning against each other with much more sadness then they both had probably intended.

“It’s nice not to be alone for once,” he said over his shoulder.

He squeezed his eyes shut again at that, not turning his head towards him as he desperately tried to fight those thoughts off. They were here now. He couldn’t let the impossibilities haunt them like this.

He tried swallowing the upcoming lump in his throat back down.

The sailor sneaked a hand in front of him, his hand coming to rest on his knee in a tender move before it continued to travel upwards.

He could feel the warmth of it against his inner thigh as his fingers pressed into the flesh from time to time. His mind was racing thinking he should stop him in time, but his body was reacting already – screaming the complete opposite, _craving_. Him. Distraction.

His breath hitched in his throat as he covered his hand with his. He tried to stop him, he _really_ had that intention. But soon he was the one guiding his hand over his own thigh, breathing heavy as he crossed his legs to trap his fingers from pulling away too soon. He was the one leading him into taking things slow, yet the anticipation was killing him.

Soon they were back to where things had been left earlier that day. Except this time he fought himself to stay as quietly as possible. He allowed himself to slump against Kyungsoo’s side, his free hand clutching the fabric covering his shoulders as the other was still trapping him between his legs.

He remembered the picture in Kyungsoo’s pocket. The staircase photoshoot as a replacement location because the piano shots hadn’t been good enough. No one liked pianos. Except Jongin. And Kyungsoo.

An addition to their list of things: shoe-accidents, crimson cheeks, lifeboats, and now unprofessional piano sounds, as Jongin leaned backwards and clumsily forgot about the keys behind his back.

But his lips already stole the laugh creeping out of his mouth. Nuzzling their noses together before he leaned back to look at him in awe. He had been mesmerized by him before, but tonight was different. In the pale moonlight, he was able to see him completely. No shadows on his face. No limited space this time.

“I like this better than the lifeboat,” the man in front of him whispered as if he was confessing to something nobody should every know of.

“Hate to disagree, but I think I prefer the lifeboat, Soo,” he teased back throwing his arms around the other’s neck. His eyes shone equally bright as the smile resting on his face, before he cast his eyes down again. “Let’s never forget this evening.”

They had stolen way too much time on the ship of dreams already.

He would never be able to. Knew _they_ would never be able to. No, they would bring this up many other times after tonight and tomorrow and the day after that. They would bring it up somewhere in a newly rented flat in New York. Or on their way back to Paris. On a ship way less majestic than the RMS Titanic, but Jongin was sure they would give that ship their hopes and dreams as well. Bigger ones, even.

He gave him a timid smile as they sat up straight again, allowing the rough worker’s hand on his cheek to try and chase away the black thoughts that had started creeping up on him again. So much had happened that day, and still it felt like a lifetime ago.

Things weren’t settled with his manager yet. Maybe he was right. Maybe he was being impulsive. But every glance at the sailor was another comfirmation. “Kyungsoo, I meant it. What I said-“

Suddenly the room started to shake, making Jongin promptly forget what he was going to say. Kyungsoo slamming right into the piano next to him because of the sudden jolt. Awkward sounds of the pressed keys piercing the unrecognizable sound.

Like an earthquake – at least, how he imagined one would feel like.

But there was no earth near them. Only water.

And _ice_. Passing by the round windows for so long – when Jongin moved to follow the sailor’s gaze over his shoulder – he doubted they would ever see the end of it.

By the time it was gone, Jongin was still gawking at the window in disbelief of what had just happened. Surely, the ship hadn’t hit something? The ship changing course must’ve cause some shaking, right?

“Quickly.” Kyungsoo’s voiced snapped him back to reality.

Or somewhere close to it. His fingers were shaking as he fought himself a way out of his lover’s limbs as fast as he could. Head numb, spinning and overflowing with thoughts.

“We have to get to the lifeboats.”

The lifeboats? Before Jongin could even think of saying anything back, he got pulled up to his feet already.

He had said he preferred them, but if this was Kyungsoo’s way of going for a round two he did not like it at all. “Soo, stop joking.”

“This can’t be good.”

“What do you mean?”

And then he got dragged along already, into the hallway where the maids quarters were. Except the hallway wasn’t crowded at all, for they were all almost nearing the end of their shifts.

The hold on his wrist was tight. The sailor’s pace too fast to keep up with.

Kyungsoo looked… feverish.

“Kyungsoo, stop it!” he shouted, pulling him back by the arm and returning the iron grip on his hand. “You’re scaring me. Please, rest a bit now?”

He didn’t believe it.

“The ship is unsinkable.” The RMS Titanic was _unsinkable_. They even wrote it on the tickets.

“Who told you such lies?” Kyungsoo shook his head before Jongin could reply. “Everything might be fine, but it also might not be. Please, trust me, Jongin, please.” He started tugging at his wrist again, dragging him along so he had no other choice but to follow.

“You’re scaring me,” Jongin whimpered, the grip on his wrist starting to hurt. He desperately wanted to pull lose, but the part that wanted to cling onto the sailor won. They were making their way through the halls at high speed right now. With every step they took, his heart started beating faster and faster.

Jongin was panting by the time he got pushed into an elevator. Finally having the time to look at Kyungsoo properly, the model took him for a madman. He was being delusional. He must be. The ship couldn’t sink…

His heart skipped a beat as they reached the top floor. People running. Shouting. His eyes grew bigger at the sight of utter chaos in the brightly lit halls of the higher decks.

“Kyungsoo, no- I can’t-“ he burst out as he grabbed his wrist once again.

Too many people. Jongin couldn’t do it.

But the sailor didn’t care as he pulled them both out of the small elevator.

He fought to keep up as best as he could in the sea of elbows, broad shoulders and claws of fingers clutching at his clothes to get past them. Tears sprung into his eyes as people kept bumping into him over and over again, making him trip over his own feet multiple times.

He wasn’t sure whether they were running against the stream or other people were. To safety. Where was safety –

“Kyungsoo!” He shouted as a man pushing against the both of them. He had to push himself against the wall in order to let the man through.

He tried to reach for his hand again, but the stream of people passing him kept pushing him backwards into the hallway. All the way back to where they came from, deeper into the ship.

He couldn’t see any of the faces staring angrily at him as he ran into people’s chests. His sight blurry as he eventually turned to pushing and clawing at people’s backs himself. It was the only way to move.

“Kyungsoo!”

He lost him. _He lost him_.

He let out a loud, desperate sob as he pressed himself back to the wall again. He slid down to the floor, making himself as tiny as he could so he wouldn’t get crushed by anyone.

What was he supposed to do now?

He couldn’t stay here. He had to find him. But where?!

He started grabbing onto all the fabrics that passed him in a daze. “Have you seen a man with stitches?!”

Through the hallways after he had managed t push himself back onto his feet. “Please, has anyone seen someone with stitches?”

No one. No one had seen him. No one in the hallways. No one in the dining room. No one on the bloody deck.

He couldn’t run on it. Not with those damned shoes. _No place for these kind of shoes on any of the decks_ , he had told him and he had been stupid enough not to listen. He kicked them off, throwing them to the side as he continued to make his way all across the ship. Throwing himself over the white rails, trying to see the lower decks in hopes he would spot him.

The sea was closer than before. Swallowing the ship already… Frightened, Jongin stumbled backwards immediately. He didn’t have much time anymore to find him.

“ _Jongin!_ ” A sharp voice behind him hissed.

He turned on his heels immediately, foolishly hoping to see the sailor’s face even when he recognized that voice in between hundreds. His manager.

“ _Jongin_ , get over here,” he started shouting, chasing him across the deck as Jongin flinched and stumbled backwards. There was still some distance between them. He had to get away from him and find Kyungsoo. He couldn’t let himself get dragged along again. He had to find-

“Get off of me!” He tried to pull himself loose, throwing off his warm coat in the process. The cold would’ve bitten off his nose, if Oh Sehun hadn’t been first. He continued shouting, waving his limbs like a lunatic as he tried to free himself. He slapped the intruding hands and arms away, shouting in panic as he tried to run away from him.

Suddenly he smacked the deck with a loud thud. A sharp pain shot up his ankle.

“I am _not_ drowning here,” Oh hissed as he pulled him up by his clothes, freeing the end of his cane from where it mockingly curled around Jongin’s calf.

He forced himself back into the coat before dragging him along. He didn’t want to follow him, but the mention of drowning had triggered something primal in him: surviving.

If they didn’t get into a lifeboat in time, they would die. Oh Sehun would die. Mister Kim would die. He would die. Kyungsoo would die.

Jongin knew it would be difficult to get into one by now. He had been running around the ship long enough to see most lifeboats leaving already, full to the brink. Sailors trying to keep the crowds at bay by pushing them backwards to avoid people jumping onto the lifeboats. Lifeboats not being let down properly because of all the chaos.

They would never make it into one. Not anymore. And if they didn’t get into one… Kyungsoo would never be able to do so either.

He couldn’t feel his naked feet anymore as he trailed behind his manager, who was busy pushing his way forward to the edge of the ship. They could be stomping on his feet, he wouldn’t be able to tell.

He didn’t know what to do at this point. He had to get out, the only option being the lifeboats. But at this point, going with his manager felt just as much like dying.

“Woman and children first, _prick_ ,” one of the sailors filling the lifeboat growled as his manager forcefully made his way past him.

Jongin was ready to crawl his way backwards – away from him and the boat – when his manager turned back to him and all of the passengers still on board of the Titanic with snake-like eyes.

“Do you know who this is?!” he snapped, tugging at Jongin’s wrist forcefully as his eyes shot flames at the sailors. “ _Supermodel_ Kim Jongin.”

Taken by complete surprise, he shrieked as he tripped into the lifeboat. His heart was beating out of his chest when the lifeboat started swinging because of it, but his manager and the sailors didn’t seem to care.

Before anyone could say anything else, Oh Sehun pulled out his wallet from the inside of his coat. His face remained stoic as he stuffed a stack of green bills in the pocket of the closest sailor.

It didn’t take any words to understand. The newly acquired money being enough of a cue to the both of them, the sailors shouted for the people to get back as they started lowering the boat.

Twelve. The lifeboat only held _twelve_ people.

“There’s room for more-“

“ _Shut up_ ,” he bit back, gritting his teeth while almost tearing the sleeve of his coat off in order for him to keep quiet.

As they passed the decks underneath the top deck, it became clear to Jongin how fast the ship was sinking. Water was creeping up on the people already, the floor slightly tilled as the sea continued swallowing the vessel.

At the sight of the passing, almost unoccupied lifeboat, people started shouting and begging. Even going as far as jumping and trying to pull the boat closer to the ship so they could get on.

All of it died down when mister Oh slammed his cane into someone’s face once more.


	14. They called it the ship of dreams

They called it ‘the Ship of Dreams’ and it was. To all the people who had boarded it in Cherbourg or Southampton, it really was.

Jongin used to be one of those people. But when the lights of the ship finally dimmed, the flicker of hope and dreams he still had for Kyungsoo to survive were gone too.

There were no more screams.

He didn’t know what was worse: those cries for help in between the earie sounds of the sinking ship, or the deafening silence that followed.

There was nothing left. No signs of any ship at the horizon. Nor any icebergs. Only sea and stars and more never-ending sea.

As if all of those dreams had never existed. The only witnesses to it the thousands of scattered odds and ends that floated around. Remnants of the fancy suites he had lived a whole new life in.

He could cry, but the freezing cold would steal his tears too. Stripped from everything, it was better not to think and not to look.

Everything outside of their little floating piece of safety was too confronting. Everything inside too. The floor of the lifeboat made him nauseous. He could scream at the memories. But the eyes of the ten other people accompanying them were enough to keep him quiet.

So he stared at Sehun’s fingers as the man eyed the other surviving passengers like a hawk. One wrong move and he would be ready to commit a gruesome murder. Jongin could tell by the way he held onto the cane. At first his knuckles had been whiter than white. After that they had turned red and purple. Now they were blue.

The warmth of his body was the only thing that kept him sane. He was literally holding onto him for dear life. Curled up completely against his body, his naked feet buried somewhere in between the layers of clothes and skin underneath to keep warm.

The heart beating underneath his ear was all he had now. They just had to stay awake.

There was a tomorrow. The sun would rise. And another ship would come.


	15. The Carpathia

He had always thought God had shaped Oh Sehun’s brows to permanently look angry at the world. But by the time they were both sitting on the deck together – shoulder against shoulder as warm rays of sunlight fell onto their faces – the familiar frown had vanished. Lost together with the ship of dreams and his fingertips.

At some point during that long horror of a night, they had all doubted if daylight would ever come. For even lifeboats didn’t assure survival. A woman freezing to her death as they all just sat around her and watched. Every single one of them too occupied with staying alive themselves. Too little clothes to share. All having their own reasons to cling to life.

They had stared Death into its eyes and managed to escape. The two of them. The nine other passengers on that lifeboat. And the hundreds of others the Carpathia had managed to pick up eventually. Other lifeboats. People clinging onto debris.

They had heard the stories. How lifeboats had gone back to search for survivors. They weren’t one of them. They weren’t the boat to sail in between hundreds of corpses that hadn’t made it like they had.

The only thing keeping him from drowning in guilt, was the selfish thought they wouldn’t have been able to handle it. He wouldn’t have been able to handle it. The reality that he had never found his sailor was bad enough to live with.

At least now he would always remember him the way they had been on that ship of dreams. Young. In love. And free, in the end.

He would always remember their nights and their little list of things: shoe-accidents, crimson cheeks, lifeboats, unprofessional piano sounds, and their tendency to spend nights together that Jongin remembered as both the worst and happiest moments of his life.

He had promised him the streets of Paris, but one thing was sure after that tragic night: all of the surviving passengers would never board a ship again after leaving the Carpathia.

They had lost everything. In the chaotic hours that followed on their rescue ship, it became clear how many widows, widowers and orphans the RMS Titanic had left. The amount of people who hadn’t lost a family member, a friend or a lover were countable on one hand. Oh Sehun being one of them.

Jongin himself was still alive, thanks to him. And for that he was forever grateful.

“Are you alright?” he asked him quietly, noticing the empty look in his eyes as they roamed across the deck.

He remembered him saying how he could still feel the ghost of his lost fingertips. Just as much as Jongin could still feel someone else’s. They both wouldn’t easily forget. He just had to remind them that they wouldn’t have to.

The only reply he got from his manager was a quiet hum. At first he had thought he had lost his tongue as well, but then he had heard him snarking to the nurses. He hadn’t changed an awful lot when it came to strangers, but to Jongin he had. Maybe only temporarily, but he didn’t care at this point.

He still had someone.

“Protect your face from the sun, Jongin,” he quietly mumbled as he struggled to pick the model’s coat off his shoulder so he could cover him up, and with it – unbeknownst to him – the looming figure wandering the deck behind their backs.

They had gotten new, warm clothes as soon as the Carpathia had picked them up, but Jongin still didn’t part with the brown coat he had been wearing.

“Let me help you,” he offered, giving him a soft smile as he took it from him. He draped it over the both of their heads before snuggling closer to him, head wearily resting on his shoulder as he took his bandaged fingers between both of his palms.

There was a warmth in Oh Sehun. One he had found on that lifeboat. One he would cling onto.


	16. Mother Liberty

By the time they finally met Mother Liberty, her face was soaked by the pouring rain falling from the sky. They passed her with a heavy heart – the remaining survivors of the RMS Titanic – and a conflicting feeling of relief.

Because just like Mother Liberty wept for them, they did too.

They had made it. Land and new lives were ahead. They would move on. But they would never forget.

No one forgot. No one wanted them to forget it.

They called it the most tragical tale of it all and for once, Jongin couldn’t do anything else but agree with that. Soon enough, pop up theaters were popping off everywhere to replay the tragic night. People eager to hear and cry at their stories. Journalists eager to listen to them and write them down in exchange for money.

And where there was money, there was Oh Sehun.

Somehow everything had turned out better for the both of them in New York, than they both had expected it to be. The one and only Kim Junmyeon had turned out to be alive as well. He came back to their cancelled deal, wanting to publish the photos – that had miraculously survived – anyway. But he hadn’t been able to until he complied to the incredible amount of money and publicity his manager demanded from the man.

And so he became the only model who had lived to tell the tale. The only model to showcase the interior of the lost ship of dreams. The sort of tragic embodiment the crowd lusted for and publicity Jongin needed to push forward his modelling career.

They asked him to tell his story multiple times and he did. He told them everything but _one_ thing. He never mentioned his sailor. Didn’t want to give the crowd a sad ending to his tale. Didn’t want to sell his memories of him.

Didn’t want to repay Oh Sehun with talks of someone else while they were both still recovering and coming back from that one dark night.

Jongin spent months slowly learning how to love him. Getting to know him again as he broke down and built himself up brick by brick. To the public they pretended to live in a sturdy house, but they both knew those walls kept tumbling down at night.

There would’ve been a time he would’ve been relieved Oh Sehun was finally lacking some fingers. But Jongin too had changed as a person. Jongin imagined that part of himself had drowned.

He imagined himself drowning just as much as Sehun imagined himself letting go of that cane that night. There was something hysterical in that last part. How fate had played him. Had played them.

He never missed those fingers. Even when Sehun did, even going as far as to sometimes ask if the lack of them made him ugly. He always answered the same thing: people had never cared about them before either. Truth was, Jongin had. They had touched Kyungsoo.

Perhaps that part of him hadn’t drowned at all. He would probably always get reminded of the sailor as he looked at Sehun. Or anything else for that matter.

New York was lovely, but it would always remain too big and unfamiliar compared to the streets of Paris he had filled with his long lost sailor.

Streets where he didn’t bump into strangers in a hurry all the time either.

“I am so sorry,” someone panted as they managed to save him from meeting the pavement face-first right on time, steadying him by the arms, “I wasn’t looking properly, I-“

“It’s alright,” the model already timidly tried to rid himself of the grip on his limbs, brushing the comment of as if it really were nothing. “Thank you for…”

He had foolishly dreamed for this to happen before. A cruel alteration of reality haunting him both during the day and night. He never would’ve dared to wish it were real. But it was.

Do Kyungsoo, the one job sailor, the man he had fallen for, the man he hadn’t lived a tomorrow with.

Standing right in front of him.

“Jongin.”

_Catching me._


	17. Ending notes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some author's notes filling up the gaps: in case you want to fill those in yourselves, don't read!

  * When Kyungsoo and Jongin lost each other in the chaotic hallway, Kyungsoo got knocked out because of his headwound and his stitches opening up again.   
Luckily for him, one of his sailor colleagues found him. Together they survived by jumping in the water and clinging onto debris with other people before the final sinking of the Titanic (a smart move, since a lot of people died because of the shock of the cold water or the actual sinking of the vessel to the bottom of the ocean, pulling them down).   
They got saved by one of the few lifeboats returning to the place of the sinking and eventually the Carpathia.
  * On board of the Carpathia: Kyungsoo finally found Jongin the moment Jongin and Sehun were basking in the sunlight out on the deck.   
Sehun spotted him first, making eye-contact with Kyungsoo. A look that forbidded him to come any closer.  
And that's when Kyungsoo decided that it would be best to stay away and out of Jongin's life. He shouldn't forsake his model career or his dreams for him. So he decided to stay away - hiding in the nurse's rooms - and disappear from his life forever to give Jongin the chance to live his dream. 
  * Kim Junmyeon survived, as well as the photos.   
The pictures of Jongin inside of the RMS Titanic were one of the very few pictures of the interior of the ship that survived. So of course, he came back to his decisions from before, signing a deal with them anyway. 
  * Jongin and Sehun lived together in New York.   
Both of them still haunted by that one tragic night, but slowly growing closer to each other. Sehun is still very manipulative and the same, but Jongin would be lost without him.   
Even grew to love him a bit more, day by day, because his touch and warmth seemed to be the only thing keeping him sane. (But also because he feels guilty and indebted to him). 
  * Yes, Sehun's fingers actually froze off. 
  * Kyungsoo and Jongin meet again on the streets of NYC and what happens next... ?   
Feel free to fill in the open, happy ending!



Thank you so much for reading this work.  
I hope i did some justice to this story and all exo members, as well as the actual historical part of the Titanic and 1912.   
Forgive me for all the angst. I hope this ending is happy enough to satisfy all of you? ;) 

Please let me know your opinion on this fic (your fav things, things you liked less, ...) and if you really liked it: don't forget to give this a like over on twitter and follow me to keep up with next projects! 

_They called it 'The Ship of Dreams' and it was. To Jongin and Kyungsoo, it truly was._

**Author's Note:**

> Also on twitter: @exosweave


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